Ghost Hunt
by No.13
Summary: When Tezuka's family inherits an old, haunted mansion, they turn to Fuji and his sister for help. Yet neither has any idea of what they're in for... mainly TF
1. Chapter 1

**Ghost Hunt**

* * *

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Further warnings: focussed entirely on Fuji and Tezuka

Author is no native English speaker (always glad to accept corrections)

Angst

Please enjoy!

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**1. Preludé**

Wednesday evening came as a dreary end to what had been a cold and rainy November day. The sun hadn't shown his head for days, streets constantly been slippery and wet, and had anybody asked for Tezuka Kunimitsu's opinion, he would have announced this a perfect time to stay at home. Maybe sit back with a good book and a warm cup of tea, simply spend an evening in perfect tranquillity until, eventually, being soothed to sleep by the falling rain's steady patter.

But no, here he stood, wrapped in his warmest winter coat, gloved fingers clutching a black umbrella, waiting at an iron-wrought gate for his parents to finish the exchange of pleasantries by pale lantern light.

There was little light here, now that both cars had shut off their lights. A wide, poorly-kept road, full of holes, lined with old and leafless trees overlooked by ancient mansions. Few of them were possessed inhabitants, most of them had long since fallen into disrepair.

A century ago, the gate behind his back might have been polished to a sleek, spotless shine, now it was dull and overgrown with vines of ivy. The mansion behind it loomed darkly, nothing but a black monument against an overcast night sky. It might have been of marvellous beauty, once upon a time, tonight it only looked old, worn and abandoned.

Tezuka turned away with a shudder and acknowledged his newly arrived companion with the slightest of nods.

"It's an impressive building your family inherited there." Fuji said, forgoing all words of greeting.

"Hn." Tezuka nodded, unwilling to move his cheeks, by now stiff from the cold, any further. Fuji flashed a tired smile signalling understanding, before, he too, turned to where his sister and Tezuka's family were exchanging all the polite pleasantries the two of them had neglected.

"And thank you very much for coming here at this time of the night." Tezuka heard his mother say as the small group of adults eventually approached.

"I admit to having been curious myself." Fuji Yumiko replied with a smile that lacked its common vibrancy. Maybe it was the November weather, maybe it was these lonely surroundings, but all looked so faded, toned-done and numbed. Night time had bleached the world off all its lovely colours; the blue family car looked like a heap of metal, an undefined shade of grey, the red convertible just another helpless protest, so dearly promethean in its intention to light a dark night.

And in the end all was for naught.

"So, there are rumours this place is haunted?" Yumiko was asking, while Tezuka Kuniharu stepped ahead, unlocking the iron gates with difficulty. The rain soaked up whatever noises there were, and even the ongoing conversation between the only two females present was only barely audible.

"…when we wanted to sell the place, they told us." Ayana shook her head gently, stepping through the pathway of old tiles. Tezuka absentmindedly recalled that they'd appeared this grey even at his first visit to this place months ago.

"At first it seemed like rumours that would typically spread in a village as remote as this." Tezuka Kunikazu said, climbing up the four stairs leading to the front porch, and closed his umbrella with a relieved sigh.

They'd all be glad to return to their respective, warm homes tonight. The place wasn't ugly, just lonely.

"But as nobody even seemed remotely interested in acquiring the property, we decided to investigate." Ayana continued, "The rumours, though, only became more outrageous. But from what I gathered, the people here believe that there is a malevolent spirit haunting this place."

She chuckled, a bright, brilliant sound that was washed away by the rain as soon as it emerged.

"My husband and I, we don't particularly believe in spirits." Ayana continued, "But then, we don't understand the mindset of people living here either.

No one present did, Tezuka contemplated. While the Fuji family might dabble into more spiritual subjects from time to time, he'd never thought that Fuji Syusuke felt serious about it.

"My father in law, though, recalled cases from his earlier job with the police force that had been solved with less than conventional methods. So we thought, perhaps we should ask somebody who actually understood something about the subject…"

Fuji Yumiko smiled, setting her umbrella aside before stepping through the door after the two males had crossed the threshold and turned on their flashlights.

"I hope tonight will wield satisfying results, then. Though, perhaps I should warn you, ghosts aren't my speciality."

Yes, Tezuka remembered, as he entered the mansion's interior that was just as cold and wet as the outside. Only, it was far darker – only the flashlights they'd brought enabled them to see their way around. Fuji Yumiko had only ever done some sort of fortune telling – with ridiculously accurate results, according to Eiji at least.

Tezuka had never paid those things much mind, not until, a few nights ago, his grandfather had mentioned in passing, that there'd been a case, almost ten years ago, that might have – or not have – been solved only due to the help of an exceptionally gifted precognitive. One that might have or might have not been named Fuji Yumiko.

Under other circumstances Tezuka would have asked his grandfather for details, but the old man had been reluctant to part with information, so he had given up on his quest. He hadn't yet asked Fuji Syusuke, wondering whether the other boy would be able to remember an event as such at all. His team mate couldn't have been older than four, back then.

"No electricity?" Fuji softly asked beside him, his pale face barely illuminated by the flash lights. Tezuka shook his head.

"The house isn't connected to this street's main electricity supplier; the wiring is there, but it doesn't work."

"This is the entrance hall." Kuniharu explained, waving his flashlight around in a room that was neither small, nor big. There were two doors, one leading to a library, the other a corridor with more rooms along it. One staircase lead to the upper story, two armchairs sat against the western wall – beautifully, original pieces that somehow had survived the decay that had befallen the rest of the building.

"…and a kitchen. Upstairs, there are two master bedrooms, each with an own bathroom, another living room and three guestrooms. Those all are practically empty, save for a few antiques pieces of furniture. Behind the library is the garden, but we hadn't had time to take care of it yet."

"I doubt we'll actually have to look at all of them." Fuji Yumiko said and Tezuka felt relieved. No climbing up narrow staircases in the darkness, no knocking on walls or whatever else they would have to do in order to find a ghost.

Fuji beside him, curiously enough, remained completely tense. His eyes kept wandering over the entrance room, eyeing the stairs suspiciously, before turning to the closed doors, contemplating whatever waited behind them. Casting those thoughts of as unnecessary worries, a picture hanging over the old armchairs caught his attention. Half-swallowed by long shadows, he barely was able to discern two human figures.

"If the spirit is indeed as malevolent as rumour has it, its presence will be easy to detect. A small poltergeist or just a restless soul however, is much more difficult to find."

Seeing all the tense faces, cast in grotesque of black and white by the poor light, Yumiko hurried to add. "Those, however, are completely harmless. They don't cause harm and nobody without an ounce of spiritual talent will ever be capable of detecting them."

Another reassuring smile became disfigured by twilight, and Tezuka caught his father paling. Mother and grandfather were holding up well – probably, because both of them had never believed in ghosts and had no intention of starting now.

Fuji Yumiko meanwhile opened her purse, procuring several items and handed them to her younger brother, who stifled a cough.

"Please close all the doors and place a lit candle before them." ,Yumiko instructed.

Wondering what it was good for, Tezuka took up a small candle and wandered over to the front door. Fuji set down an empty glass beside the candle and caught the questioningly raised eyebrow. Another muffled cough, and Fuji answered "to detect the spirit's path" while filling the glass to the brim with water.

With a frown Tezuka turned away from the oddities, returning to the room's centre. At least, nobody was drawing pentagrams on the floor. Yet. With growing dread he watched Yumiko setting small silver coins on the floor. To him, there was no logic behind the pattern, but he could discern there was one, from all the care she used when choosing the places.

"It's to make us invisible to the ghost." Fuji explained softly, before padding over to his sister. They set up a small black box in the middle of the room – it looked more like a shoebox than anything used for occult rituals. Tezuka refrained from commenting, though. His mother, too, seemed slightly annoyed at the odd performance, while his father looked, of all things rather fascinated.

"What are we supposed to do?" Tezuka Kuniharu asked, as Yumiko spread some white papers at random across the floor.

"Nothing." ,she replied evenly, "We're just about set. Just do me favour and stay in the circle until I say otherwise." She indicated the five silver coins.

"What is going to happen now?" Kunikazu asked, stepping back into the circle. Tezuka wordlessly followed, curiously observing Fuji settling himself besides the black box.

Yumiko caught his questioning glance. "Syusuke will be baiting the ghost. He's got his own protective circle over there."

And indeed, Tezuka caught sight of a further four silver coins on the floor around his team mate. Fuji was still holding onto the fifth one, obviously intending to keep his circle opened until the last possible moment.

Tezuka Kunimitsu wondered, whether this wasn't a bit of a risky strategy, as he settled himself on the ancient wooden floor and shut his flashlight off. Then again, both Fujis seemed confident and went about their motions calmly.

And since ghosts didn't exist, everything was nothing but ridiculous.

Yumiko nodded at his parents with a smile – one, that in the flickering candlelight, appeared oddly demonic. A certain unholy sparkle lit her eyes, when she requested everybody to turn their flashlights off now, because they were about to begin.

Abruptly, the room was cast in darkness. Not a sound from the outside penetrated the ancient walls; rain and wind had been banned to another world. Here was only blackness, stale air and unforgiving wooden floorboards underneath his jeans. He barely heard his mother breathing, and was only vaguely able to make out Yumiko's silhouette, even though she sat right in front of him.

Nothing happened. The stillness was suffocating, extinguishing all life present, forcing him to remain motionless, fixed to his place as a statue. The darkness was stifling; he ached to move, to shift into a more comfortable position, to do anything to recall being alive – but he didn't.

His hands felt numb from the cold he only slowly became aware of. Naturally, an uninhabited house wouldn't be heated, but even through his thick winter coat he noticed the air's icy bite. Dimly, he made out his breath fogging the air…

Temperatures had dropped dramatically since they'd sat down. His toes had lost all feeling, and dimly he wondered whether they were turning as blue as the candle wax.

A sudden flickering of light brought him abruptly out of his contemplations. All of a sudden, shadows were dancing, twirling, spinning, moving around in gleeful disorder. One doorknob flashed gold, a chair seemed to move, the staircase's red carpet drenched in blood, a painting visible before disappearing in darkness, faces torn and twisted, blackness consuming what before had been tinted gold. Somebody gasped, a small sound carrying endlessly to the spacious room.

Tezuka saw Yumiko tense, sensed more than saw the sudden panic overcoming her features.

"Syu-!"

A sharp, icy wind raced through the room, silencing her desperate cry. All candles were extinguished, dimly Tezuka heard something shatter, a door smashing open so hard it rebound from the wall.

"What?" gasped Ayana wide-eyed.

"A flashlight! A flashlight!" Yumiko frantically ordered. Tezuka realized what his subconscious had been telling him all along, maybe even before the wind had picked up.

Something was wrong.

Dreadfully, dreadfully wrong.

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Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it and if you have suggestions or comments, please share them with me. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Ghost Hunt**

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**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**Further warnings**: focussed entirely on Fuji and Tezuka

Author is no native English speaker (always glad to accept corrections)

Angst

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Thank you very much for reviewing! Positive feedback makes me update faster! -

Please enjoy!

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**2. Overture**

"A flashlight!" Yumiko shouted frantically, as the wind picked up. Tezuka's heart missed a beat, something hit the ground with a dull thud, and there was nothing but absolute blackness. He heard the wind howling, his parents fumbling around, could practically feel the ice-cold fear poring from the older Fuji, slowly taking himself over.

Blood freezing in his veins, dread gripping his heart tightly – he wanted to stand up, and do something to help – but remained frozen on the ground. Complete darkness suffocating his senses, he couldn't tell up from down, left from right, not with the wind raging like this, not with the noises, not when the room felt as if it was spinning.

Suddenly, a light flashed, his father had managed to find the flashlight and put it on. The beam spun wildly across the room, testament to his father's madly shaking hands, testament to the fear that had them all holding their breaths in terrified suspension.

"Kuniharu!" Ayana admonished unable to keep her voice from shaking. She made to reach for the flashlight, and it tumbled to the ground.

It was only a split second, but it was enough to make his heart stop. The light beam briefly revealed a black shadow, bowed over his unmoving, white-faced team mate. Then the flashlight came to rest, shining cruel, blinding light at a pale arm, wrist mercilessly gripped and pinned by an undefined grey lump to the ground, the belonging hand motionless and white.

And everything blurred in front of his eyes, somebody gasped, maybe there was even a scream, and all of a sudden Yumiko had risen, standing upright and tall, stepping forward without fear.

Gone was the gently-smiling, well-dressed young woman, replaced by a far more fearsome creature. It was somebody incredibly powerful who stepped out of the protective circle, exuding confidence and determination; somebody Tezuka Kunimitsu failed to recognize.

Something flared, blinding, choking, all-consuming. Bright, powerful, over-whelming…

* * *

Stars were blinking in front of his eye when he gathered his wits again, clueless as to how much time had passed. His heart was pounding in his ears, but besides there was silence. No howling wind, just a groan from his mother as she tried to clear her head, his father clearing his throat. The pattering rain outside.

His stomach lurched as he recalled the motionless hand. Drenched in cold sweat, he barely gathered the courage to turn his eyes in the fateful direction, only to find his view blocked by Yumiko's sleek figure.

"We need to get out of here." she announced grimly. Her voice was calm, but lacked whatever power she had possessed previously and her profile was pale and drawn.

"Your brother – is he…" Ayana started, slightly out of breath, only to be cut off abruptly.

"We need to leave this place first." Yumiko insisted, glancing uneasily at the opened doors, leading into absolutely black places. Only a tad bit of natural lightening had returned to the front room, together with November wind and clammy air.

In a trance Tezuka climbed to his feet, barely noting his family mirroring his actions. He failed to note his mother's stricken face, his grandfather's worried frown. The comforting hand his father placed on his own shoulder.

His eyes were fixed ahead, starring as Yumiko helped her barely-conscious younger brother to his feet. Fuji was pale, paler than Tezuka had ever seen him before. Eyelashes fluttering, body trembling and it was only with gentle force that Yumiko managed to steer her younger sibling out of the front door and into the freezing rain.

Tezuka welcomed the cold raindrops hitting his face, washing away whatever deathly spell had been cast over him. He felt like waking up from a horrid nightmare, finally reaching the real world after having been caught in a frighteningly realistic dream.

"Fuji!" he gasped, seeing his friend sinking down on the stairs like a limp rag-doll.

Yumiko leaned forward, fingers clutching her brother's thin shoulders tightly, trying to gauge his condition.

"Syusuke! Syusuke! Stay with me! Syusuke!"

Stumbling over, Tezuka breathlessly sank to his knees. He reached out for his friend's lifeless form, only to drop his hand uselessly, admitting that there was nothing he could do; not when Yumiko was already shaking her brother that desperately.

"Syusuke! Look at me!"

Blue eyes fluttered open, glazed and sightless and Tezuka's heart clenched. A frown crossed Yumiko's beautiful, white face and when she spoke next it wasn't the caring, older sister talking, but the order of a powerful entity.

"Look. At. Me."

The haziness disappeared and Fuji blinked, awareness setting in. Gone were the room's oppressing darkness and the air's smothering stillness, replaced by the black outlines of a leafless tree, bending against an overcast night sky.

"Nee-sa…" the words, soft as they were, immediately were swallowed by a violent coughing fit.

Yet, even as Fuji was bent over, gasping for air between coughs that rattled the lithe body, Tezuka saw Yumiko's shoulders sag in relief. Her eyes closed for a moment, tension slowly draining out of her body.

And suddenly, the rain was gone too. Tezuka looked up to find his father hovering over them, holding one opened umbrella out over their heads.

"Perhaps you should return home." he tentatively said, looking uncertain and worried.

Yumiko flashed a grateful, but tired smile at him, accepting the offered umbrella with a word of thanks.

"I suppose that would be best, yes." then she turned to her brother, who was still leaning against the stairs, breathing heavily. "Ne, Syusuke, let's go home."

The ghost of the classical Fuji smile crept on his face as Tezuka's team mate mumbled. "Yes, Nee-san."

"Is Fuji-kun alright?" Kuniharu inquired worriedly. Tezuka himself was watching with baited breath as his team mate struggled to get to his feet.

Yumiko gently put an arm around her brother's waist, stabilizing him just enough to remain upright. "He's okay." she replied, looking at Kuniharu, "Just needs to lie down and sleep."

She steered their steps across faded tiles, through overgrown iron gates and out onto the street. Behind them, Ayana and Kunikazu silently followed the procession through the cold rain until they reached their cars.

A sigh of relief passed Ayana's lips when her husband unlocked the car and the prospect of curling up with a hot cup of tea at home finally appeared within the closer future. Tezuka respectfully waited as his father's side until Yumiko had settled her brother into the passenger's seat of her red convertible.

She turned to them, face more serious than it had been during the entire evening.

"So the rumours are true." Kunikazu concluded, voice heavy.

Yumiko nodded sympathetically.

Ayana tilted her head. "Is… has the spirit been banished?"

His mother's words expressed Tezuka's thoughts. He had wondered about that sudden flare of something that had abruptly ended the nightmare. The ghost's presence had disappeared so suddenly, he too, had felt it must have been destroyed.

"No." the answer was flat, Yumiko's eyes hooded. "This spirit is far more ancient and powerful than I expected. It was only due to surprise that we could escape."

Tezuka shuddered.

"But then…" his father began, fingers clenching his umbrella tight enough to render his knuckles bloodless, "What happened to Fuji-kun…"

Yumiko's expression was colder than the night. "The protective circles we set up were far too weak for something of that size. We're lucky it didn't turn on us first."

"Is Fuji-kun okay?" Ayana interrupted, looking worried.

"He should be." Yumiko allowed her expression to relax, "I'm a bit surprised, I must admit… The rumours concerned a vengeful spirit causing deaths, didn't they?"

Kunikazu wordlessly nodded.

A frown crossed Yumiko's face and Tezuka wondered what she was thinking. Had she just implied she had expected the ghost to kill her younger brother? Implied that, without twitching?

"Is it possible to… well, do something about the spirit?" Ayana asked, putting motherly concerns aside for the moment.

"There's no ghost or demon that can't be banished or dealt with in some way." Yumiko replied, smiling humourlessly, "But that thing is a class for itself. My powers alone won't suffice and I know nobody whose would."

Ayana paled and Kunikazu frowned. "How about we simply tear down the building?"

"I doubt you'd get official permission to do that." Yumiko replied, "Furthermore, that won't kill the ghost. He is, as far as I can tell, attached to this area – if he's attached to anything at all. Ghosts powerful to this degree might be able to wander the country to their heart's contend."

Tezuka caught his mother glancing at his grandfather, silently questioning 'what do we do?'. He'd lost sight of his own father until a warm hand came down on his shoulder.

"How are you doing?" ,his father softly questioned, unwilling to disturb the conversation.

"Fine enough." Tezuka replied, wondering if he was speaking the truth at the same time. So many impossible things had happened and he hadn't yet had time to contemplate them all. For now, though, he was okay. Badly shaken and maybe even scared, but healthy and sane.

"…but usually there are other ways to banish powerful ghosts besides using raw power." Yumiko was currently telling his grandfather, "How exactly this works does however depend on the ghost."

"We don't know much beside that it's supposed to be a man intending to take revenge or do something like that." Ayana replied.

Yumiko frowned. "It would be interesting to find out his name. That would be one clue as to how to banish him."

A sudden, cold breeze carried freezing rain underneath their umbrellas. Nighttime and coldness were beginning to wear on Tezuka's constitution, he wanted to return home and crawl into bed. There was school and tennis early tomorrow - something real and serious, nothing like this half-fantastic story-book scenario that he had trouble believing had really happened. The rain was real, the wind, too - but a ghost - it could have been only shadows after all, because the human mind tended to fill the blanks when the eyes failed.

"Another would be his objective." Yumiko stated with an air of finality. Light coughing interrupted the rest of the conversation.

Ayana's business-like expression vanished, taking in Fuji's soaked and hunched over form.

"We'll look into it." she promised, "But for today perhaps it would be better to return home."

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Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it and if you have suggestions or comments, please share them with me. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Ghost Hunt**

* * *

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Further warnings: focussed entirely on Fuji and Tezuka

Author is no native English speaker (always glad to accept corrections)

Angst

Jingy5: Possession? Hm… not quite. Nice idea, though. About how they're going to get rid of the ghost – well, that is going to take them some more time at the very least.

Wizli: Concerning Yumiko's power surge – yep, I agree that was somewhat strange, but right there she only 'scared' the ghost away by showing that she was somewhat powerful, not necessarily more powerful (hope that makes sense). Anyways, I tried my best at portraying them as 14-year olds, though somehow my mind keeps screaming '16. At least.'.

Vierblith: I very much hope you will find this chapter as interesting as the previous ones.

Yoshikochan: I'm glad you found the story until now 'suspenseful', because I must admit, after finishing the entire fic (I'm currently only doing some adjustments in response to reviews), I found the plot rather simple. Arigatou gozaimasu.

Sango Hikari: Concerning commas and periods – I'll try to keep it in mind, though I can't make any promises. I tend to write rather intuitively, using punctuation at will and while that usually works quite well in my native tongue, it … well, it doesn't adapt to well to other languages. But thanks anyways. And as for Fuji – let's just say his life isn't going to get any easier.

DarkFairylover: I'll try my very best! -

Biont: Actually, that ritual was more or less and accident that happened to me while writing. My original intention had been for them to encounter the ghost while searching the house, but the scene just didn't write itself that way. I'm glad you liked it.

Nymphadora1982: Keeping the characters from becoming ooc is quite a task. I'm still not sure whether they turned out okay in the later chapters …

**Thank you very, very much for reviewing! **

And without further ado, on to part 3 and 4!

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**3. Air**

It wasn't raining on Thursday morning, so Tezuka had to get up early for practice. Temperatures had dropped since yesterday and the cold, clammy air effortlessly penetrated his thick woollen coat, creeping through the layers of his uniform until he could feel it even on his skin. The sky was still overcast; dark grey clouds threatening rainfall and promising an early nightfall.

Actually, most cars had their headlights turned on and Tezuka wouldn't have minded had the street lanterns been adding, too. It felt far too dark to be daytime actually, he thought, wondering if anybody else would be appearing for morning practice today.

"Good morning." Oishi greeted him, the moment he stepped on the bus. He tried his best pretending to be cheerful, but drooping eyelids and the way his smile was no more than a tired lip movement, told Tezuka that had Oishi been a less responsible person he wouldn't have left his bed.

"How are you?" the vice-captain asked, catching sight of shadows underneath his captain's eyes.

"Fine." Tezuka replied, fixing Oishi with a gaze that was meant to stop him from asking anymore questions at least – if not to stop him from worrying altogether, before he turned to stare out on grey, lifeless streets.

Oishi followed his gaze and sighed. "It's the weather." He muttered "It's wearing everybody down."

Tezuka nodded in reply and both fell silent for the rest of the ride. People around them were less noisy than usual. It seemed as if the dreadful weather had actually managed to shut all those giggling schoolgirls up.

Oishi yawned tiredly, when they emerged and even Tezuka only straightened his posture when the school building came into sight.

"Do you think anybody's going to come?" Oishi asked, sidestepping another puddle on the sidewalk. Life had returned to his voice – maybe the promise of a well-heated locker room and a hot shower after training was at fault there.

"They'll be running 40 laps at least otherwise." Tezuka replied, suppressing the urge to take off his glasses and wipe the last remains of sleepiness from his eyes.

Oishi chuckled. "That's harsh, buchou. But I think the majority will be there."

"Aa. That's good."

"They're simply to afraid of what will happen if they don't appear." Oishi added, still smiling, picked up the pace and Tezuka's lips twitched in response.

For a moment he managed to forget about the rain clouds overhead. The locker room was warm and well-lit, and gripping his racket was enough to chase any lingering worries out of his head.

Maybe he should play a match against Echizen or Fuji today, just to distract himself, he contemplated while watching the other regulars arrive. Most of them were remarkably awake – Kaidou arrived already dressed, having jogged the way to school. Kawamura appeared a bit more timid then usual, yet the moment he picked up his racket, every trace of autumn depression vanished instantly.

Inui's notebook had gained a waterproof cover and Oishi softly whispered to Tezuka that he wondered whether Kaidou's latest headband wasn't waterproof, too. Eiji arrived with his eyes half-closed, almost too late and would have walked into the door, hadn't Oishi hurried over and steered his partner safely into the locker room, where he proceeded to convince him to join the world of the waking.

Fuji looked better than yesterday evening, Tezuka noted with relief, even if still a bit pale. Momoshirou and Echizen were as lively as ever, perhaps the only ones unaffected by the dreary weather.

"Everyone!" Tezuka shouted to gather attention, "Thirty laps to warm up!"

"There's Inui's Health Juice for those who lag behind." Inui added, glasses glinting eerily.

Thus, practice proceeded more or less normally. Fuji lagged behind at the laps though and was rather out of breath after finishing them. Since he fended Eiji's and Oishi's worried inquiries off with a smile, there seemed to be no reason for Tezuka to be concerned. Yesterday night might have been harsh on them, but he had to trust Fuji's judgement here. And if his friend only tugged the sleeves of his jersey down before joining Echizen for volleying practice, everything had to be more or less all right, Tezuka decided while frowning up at the darkening sky.

It was only a question of time until the clouds would open up and unleash their torrents. He hoped it would happen during a lesson, but it could happen any minute now. With a heavy heart, Tezuka eventually decided against holding long matches today and just have everybody doing target practice, rallying and one-set matches.

Most played better than expected – Tezuka hadn't really been hoping to find any form of enthusiasm on the courts today. But looking at Momo driving his balls into the far corners of Inui's court, made him reconsider his notions.

The liveliest match ongoing was however the friendly competition between Eiji and Kawamura. Although none were using their special moves, they weren't necessarily holding back, with Kawamura hitting the balls hard and fast into every possible direction and Eiji acrobatically returning them.

Kaidou and Oishi, though, were exchanging rather lax balls – both looked as if they would prefer a hot cocoa over the wet and slippery courts. Tezuka was just about to remind them, when another voice cut in.

"Buchou! Oi! Buchou!"

Echizen sounded strange. His usual exasperation held a tinge of worry that made Tezuka frown before he had turned around.

The sight greeting him made his blood run cold.

Fuji was kneeling on the ground, hunched over and coughing violently. One shaking hand was still clutching the racket, the other pressed against his mouth to muffle the coughs. But Tezuka could tell from the way his body was trembling that this was bad.

And causing a commotion, as a lot of first years had already wandered over to see what was happening.

Biting his lip and reproaching himself for having waved previous concerns away, he hurried to approach his friend who still hadn't stopped coughing.

"Echizen." he said, as he was close enough to see that there was actual worry written across the boy's face, "Go and fetch something to drink."

There was no reply, but Echizen took off instantly.

"Fuji?" Tezuka asked, gently putting a hand on a quivering shoulder.

The tensai slowly turned to face him, blinking as if he had trouble seeing clearly. His face was flushed, making Tezuka wonder if he was running a fever, too.

"Fuji, what happened?" Eiji exclaimed worriedly, bouncing over, "Nya, are you alright?"

Oishi followed closely behind and panicked the moment he got a good view of Fuji's face.

"My god! You should go to the nurse! Wait, how bad is it? Has anybody a thermostat? Perhaps we should call an ambulance! Did you fall, Fuji? How are you feeling? Are you dizzy? Sick? Are you…"

"Ma, ma, Oishi." Fuji flashed a strained smile at the vice-captain, "I'm okay. It's just a little cold."

Oishi wasn't convinced by the tensai's white face. And when the boy attempted to get up, he would have fallen immediately, hadn't Tezuka reached out a stabilizing arm.

"Nya, Fuji…" Eiji watched anxiously, "Maybe you should go home."

Oishi nodded, and even Echizen muttered a one-worded agreement. By now they had drawn quite a crowd, Tezuka realized. All regulars had abandoned their matches and a vast majority of freshmen had also wandered over, demanding to know what was going on.

"Oi, Fuji-senpai, are you alright?" Momoshirou asked, a frown marring his features.

The third year regular gave a tired smile and a nod in reply, unconsciously leaning closer to Tezuka's body for warmth. Hiding another cough, he managed to whisper a 'Don't worry.' in Eiji's direction.

He couldn't suppress the tremors cursing through his body, when the wind picked up, rougher and colder than before, scattering brown leaves across the courts. Thick grey clouds were racing across overhead and Tezuka fe lt his sweat-drenched jersey cooling rapidly. They'd all end up with a cold if they kept standing around…

"Everybody back to practice!" he ordered, giving a nod into Oishi's direction. The vice-captain accepted the transfer of power with a frown, but didn't protest.

Tezuka gently steered his team mate back to the locker room, while Oishi gave out orders behind them. There were glances lingering at their backs, watching as captain and tensai disappeared from the grey outside into a warm and well-lit room.

* * *

"Ne, it's not that bad." Fuji whispered softly, sitting down with a sigh of relief.

Tezuka raised a doubting eyebrow, watching his friend lean back and close his eyes wordlessly. Whatever exactly had happened to Fuji last night, must have been graver than he had expected… and deep inside Tezuka wondered whether he had actually gone so far as to ignore his friend's condition because he wanted to forget about those events, that had no place in his well-defined and rational world-view.

"Really" Fuji insisted, but the chuckles soon turned into coughs.

"You aren't fit for practice." Tezuka remarked, his voice astonishingly emotionless and bland.

Blue eyes blinked tiredly, before disappearing in a smile. "I guess so." was the weak response.

"Maybe you really should go home. Or at least to the nurse."

Fuji shook his head. "It's just a small cold, buchou. I'm sorry about practice, but I'll be fine in class."

And, true enough, Tezuka saw that the flush had disappeared from Fuji's face, leaving him only slightly paler than usual. As Tezuka remained in sceptical silence, Fuji felt urged to continue.

"Honestly, I'm okay. That thing last night… didn't do any … lasting damage."

Tezuka's forehead wrinkled. He hadn't actually been referring to the surreal events – he had them nicely tucked away in a dark corner of his memory – but now, as Fuji spoke of them, he couldn't suppress all the questions from welling up again.

"I've been wondering." he began, uncharacteristically contemplative, "What did actually happen there?"

"The ghost was stronger than expected." Fuji replied, unconsciously mirroring his sister's words from the rainy night before, "And quite malevolent, too. Though I do wonder…"

He trailed off, fixing the bleak wall with a thoughtful look before turning back to Tezuka. "Say, do you have the keys for the house? We forgot to take our stuff yesterday…"

It sounded like a bad idea. Still, Tezuka found himself nodding, telling himself not to listen to those ridiculous voices warning him of ill-meaning spirits, the evilness of the ancient mansion and the foreboding dwelling within his chest.

"Let's go after school, then." Fuji cheerfully suggested.

Tezuka wanted to protest, saying there was practice. But looking outside, he saw that the clouds had finally opened up, releasing fat, cold drops, while Fuji coughed behind him.

* * *

Fuji Yumiko didn't feel any better after having slept eleven hours. University classes only started late in the afternoon, and she contemplated whether she ought to go after all. The living room's vast windows provided a sight of heavy rainfall, and with a sigh she switched on the lights, chasing at least the darkness within the house away.

She couldn't chase away the dreary thoughts haunting her since last night. The spirit had left her breathless, shaken and doubting her own abilities. Never before she had encountered a presence as ancient and violent – hadn't she known better she would have deemed it a demon.

The intent had been clear from the first moment on – to harm, to kill – and yet, nothing had happened. And that hadn't been due to timely interference on her part. All had happened frighteningly fast; the moment the candles had blown out, the ghost had already reached her brother.

But why, why hadn't the spirit finished its job? What were the factors she missed? What reason was capable of stalling such a powerful creature?

Yet, when she recalled the setting, she only remembered the darkness, the rain, the all-consuming loneliness. A shadow of former glory, perhaps, but long, long gone now. A sense of destroyed happiness, a sense of…

Yes, she was getting closer. Yumiko carefully reached for a deck of tarot cards, closing her eyes and drawing one by chance. Somehow, she accidentally dislodged a second card, sending it tumbling down on the polished floorboards.

Surprised she opened her eyes, staring at the two cards. _The Devil_ in her hand, and _the Lovers_ on the floor.

'Totality and relationships.' she thought, frowning, 'I wonder…'

Curious, she reached out once more, focusing on her memories. Calling in mind the mansion and trying to bind it to the first two cards.

_The Hierophant_. With a snort, she let the tension drain from her body. 'Enlightenment. So there is a story behind this…'

And she knew from experience that the cards wouldn't tell her anymore right now. She had to gather additional knowledge to unlock the doors closed now. Or just find a loophole…

Then again, maybe she was getting paranoid. She hadn't set up her cards correctly, so there was no telling her reading just now said anything. It could all have been pure luck, after all.

With a soft sigh, Yumiko tore her gaze away from the torrents of rain outside and kneeled down in front of a low table. Chasing unwanted thoughts out of her head, gathering her concentration and detaching herself from the immediate surroundings as well as her emotional attachments, she recalled Yuuta's face.

'Show me Yuuta.' she ordered the cards.

_The Sun. _With a detached nod, Yumiko returned the card to the deck. She'd always drawn the Sun as a general representation of Yuuta's personality. So, most probably she wasn't losing her touch.

Time to test a more removed person.

'Show me … Echizen Ryoma."

She chuckled when the card turned up to reveal the Magician. The result had been well in her expectations and fit the reality beautifully.

The third and last test was more done from routine than any desire to acknowledge the results.

"Show me Syusuke." she ordered.

And instantly dropped the card she drew with a startled gasp. Trembling fingers reached out, picked it up and brought it in front of a pale, surprised face.

_The Wheel of Fortune_. Which was NOT Syusuke's card. Hadn't ever been, too. Breathing deep to calm herself, Yumiko force herself to contemplate the implications without panicking. The Wheel of Fortune wasn't a bad card, everything considered. Perhaps even a little better then the Moon – which had been the traditional result when she'd drawn a card for her oldest younger brother.

What did it mean, again? Events, happenings, the general proceedings of the world, history and man's place within. Being part of a greater plan…

Nothing to give her heart a reason for beating frantically, nothing to loose any sleep about. So, something happened somewhere to change the card representing her brother – yet, things like this happened from time to time, she knew from experience. Yuuta's character cards seemed to change almost on a regular basis, and years ago she'd drawn another card for Syusuke, too.

The only thing to be concerned about was perhaps that she had no clue why Syusuke's card had changed. Usually, she managed to discern the events heralding a change in cards, even if it was only in the aftermath. But right now…

'Part of a greater scheme… Maybe it refers to his tennis team's ambition to win the nationals.'

Yet she couldn't quench the unease deep within her heart.

* * *

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it and if you have suggestions or comments, please share them with me. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Ghost Hunt**

* * *

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Further warnings: focussed entirely on Fuji and Tezuka

Author is no native English speaker (always glad to accept corrections)

Angst

Please enjoy!

* * *

**4. Rondo**

If anything, the sky had gotten even darker when school ended for the day. The rain hadn't let up, having become developed a steady rhythm, only disrupted by sudden bouts of wind.

"It will be snowing soon." Tezuka heard a classmate remark, as he left his classroom. Casting a weary glance at the overcast heavens, he hoped it wouldn't happen that early in the year. Right now he could still hope for phases without rainfall for tennis practice, but the moments the school grounds became white, practice was out of question.

"Ah, Tezuka, thank you for waiting." Fuji said, effortlessly wandering through the throngs of milling students. He looked somewhat better than when Tezuka had last seen him, but not completely healthy yet.

"Let's go." the captain only replied, wanting to get the affair over with. Although – even if he would never admit it aloud – he was slightly curious.

In silence they buttoned up their thick winter coats, neither looking forward to walking through the cold rain. Tezuka fished out his gloves, reached for his umbrella and turned, only to find his friend adjust a cute black hat that perfectly matched the knee-long coat.

And made him look even more like a girl.

For a split second Tezuka was tempted to grin at his team mate's predicament. Teasing the tensai about his girlish looks was something Eiji liked to do, usually much to everybody's amusement. Not to Fuji's, though.

Tezuka had never been somebody to poke fun at other people, thus he only wordlessly opened his umbrella and stepped outside, followed by Fuji. They didn't talk the entire way to the train station, and it wasn't until they had changed lines to the one that would bring them to their final destination, that a topic for conversation arose.

Fuji had taken off his gloves, testament to the overheated trains and unconsciously started massaging his left wrist. Tezuka noted a white bandage wrapped tightly around and leaned over to question.

"What's that?"

"Ah, nothing serious. Only a slight abrasion." Fuji replied, smiling, "From yesterday."

Tezuka's eyebrow's shot up. He hadn't even noted the bandage at practice. "From the ghost?" he questioned, unable to keep the incredulous note from his voice.

"Yes." Fuji replied and Tezuka recalled the flashlight's beam hitting a motionless hand pressed to the ground by something dark and undefined.

"Didn't the… circle … hold?" Seigaku's captain continued, trying to fill the gaps in his logical understanding of the paranormal events.

"It was far too weak. Shattered at first contact." was the cryptic answer, which didn't tell Tezuka anything new.

"Is it actually safe to return to the house now?"

"Should be. It's daytime for one, and we're not trying to attract the ghost's attention. Most spirits don't show themselves unless you provoke them. Anyhow, do you know, by chance, who the ghost was before he turned into one?"

"No. Rumours only tell of a certain blood-thirsty spirit haunting the building and killing any inhabitants."

"You're uncle…" Fuji gasped in sudden consternation but Tezuka waved a hand.

"Died from a heart attack. Which is perhaps surprising but not exactly unnatural for fourty-seven year old man with health issues."

"Aa. And the previous inhabitants?"

Tezuka only shrugged, gaze drawn to the outside. Few passengers remained on the train, and they had long since left the urban area behind. The foggy landscape outside consisted of barren fields, leafless trees bending in the wind and a lonely, small house every now and then.

They were the only ones to leave the train at that station. Like the mansion, the train station had seen better times. Only the nameplate looked recently painted, the rest had seen poor maintaining

Trudging through uneven, silent streets, they met no other people. Not even a car passed by, even though Tezuka heard two driving in the distance. It was funny, in a way. They weren't that far from Tokyo, but it felt as if they had arrived within an entirely other world. One that looked strangely unreal with its dead trees and white fog swallowing the surroundings.

Only when Tezuka reached the gate, searching his coat pockets for the keys with his umbrella pinned between shoulder and head, he turned to speak to Fuji again.

"What do you want to retrieve?"

Fuji blinked in surprise as the silence was that suddenly disrupted. Voices sounded foreign in this place, but he knew better than to linger at that idea.

"The things nee-san and I set up last night. You know, the paper and the black box – I just want to get a look at them and see whether we actually got some results."

"Results?" Tezuka repeated, pushing the door open.

Fuji followed him up the stairs towards the front entrance. "There was a piece of film in the black box, so there is a chance we got a picture of our spirit. As for the rest, we'll have to see."

Feeling slightly curious himself, Tezuka managed to shake of the residing feelings of dread as he unlocked the wooden door.

The entry room was as cold and dark as it had been last night. Yet it looked as if a hurricane had hurled through, paper was strewn everywhere, candles and overturned glasses. The painting had fallen off the wall and the door further down leading into the hall was wide-open. Tezuka shuddered at the waiting blackness visible there, but gathered his nerves and turned to close the door behind Fuji.

"Don't close it, Tezuka." Fuji instructed softly, stepping further into the room. He eyed the paper with such an unveiled astonishment, that Tezuka automatically followed that riveted gaze.

What before had been empty white paper, had become partially filled with angry, brownish smears. The splotches looked accidental – yet at times, they resembled characters and numbers.

Tezuka made out a '65' on a sheet near the centre of the room. There was something that looked like the character for 'death' near it. And off to the side where the two armchairs stood, there was a pattern that could resemble 'love'.

"Is that actual writing?" he asked Fuji, who was making his way towards the black box.

"It might be. What does it say?"

"No, I only thought some of those splotches looked like characters."

"They might be. Say, do you remember which candle blew out first?"

"They more or less all went out at the same time, didn't they?"

"Maa, that's troublesome." Fuji picked up the black box and carefully stashed it into his book bag, then turned to look at Tezuka again, "What's upstairs?"

"Bedrooms and some empty chambers. It's all pretty old."

"Yes, it looks rather antique. Do you know when the house was built?"

"From what I've been told it must have been in the middle of the 16th century. Somehow, the idea of building houses from stone had been imported from the west, thus this building came into being."

"It's quite unique." Fuji replied gently, but his eyes kept straying to the staircase.

"If you'd like to, we can take a look upstairs. They kept some original furniture, I've heard." Tezuka offered.

"From fifteen-hundred-something?"

"Supposedly."

"My, that must be worth a …" half-way up the staircase and Fuji's words were swallowed by a sudden, violent coughing fit. One hand clutching the banister, he doubled over, desperate for air but incapable of drawing a breath. It felt as if somebody was squeezing his lungs; his throat was sore and burning and Tezuka registered with growing worry, that the formerly dry coughs had gained a thick, wet note.

They shouldn't have come here, he realized. Not when Fuji was sick and the temperatures inside this house were just as freezing as the rain outside.

"Fuji…" he began, eyes fixed at his friend's back. 'Let's head home.' he wanted to say, 'Let's just forget about this and go back.'

But no sound fell from his lips and Fuji turned to him, white-faced and smiling weakly.

"I'm okay, Tezuka. Don't worry."

A flash of dazed blue, then their trek upstairs abruptly resumed at a much faster pace. It made Tezuka wonder, to see Fuji's hands tremble like that, yet he showed no signs of slowing down.

But something wasn't right…

Sheer accident made Tezuka gaze downward, looking at the mess of strewn paper and overturned glasses. There were more characters decipherable now, more strange words begging for interpretation.

_Death. Another. Last. Wish. Unity. Mortality. Loss. Love. Undo. Rewrite. Lost. Eternity. Mistake. Container. Rebirth. Chance. Awaken. Time. More._

Shuddering, he tore his gaze away. Whatever those words meant, it made his blood run cold. He didn't want to know, actually – his stomach clenched at the thought of unveiling this cryptic message. Heart urging him to turn his back to never return again…

He chased those thoughts away with a small shake of the head. Fuji, he discovered to his surprise, had already reached the top of the stairs and disappeared through the doorway.

Tezuka followed with a frown on his face. Fuji didn't usually rush ahead, especially not in unfamiliar buildings. The smaller regular preferred to follow, to study his surroundings – yet those light steps heralded a blind charge into an unknown direction.

Slightly out of breath, Tezuka turned into the corridor, catching sight of Fuji disappearing into a room on the right – one of the unused chambers, his mind recalled, barely holding any furniture. Something was definitely funny here. Making up his mind to demand answers _now_, Tezuka managed to utter half of Fuji's name, when an ice-cold bout of wind rushed through the long, dark corridor, rattling the old wooden wall panels.

Instinctively Tezuka lifted his arms to shield his face, a small part wondering where this wind originated from, but mainly he only wanted to know what was going on here.

A sudden thud startled him, making his heart clench and he abruptly lifted his head. The massive wooden door to the room Fuji had just disappeared into slammed shut; the wind bit into his cheeks, trying to force Tezuka to avert his gaze, to step back, to leave…

Hell, enough was enough.

Tezuka forcefully stepped forward, keeping one arm in front of his face. The howling wind picked up dramatically, but was unable to deter him anymore. Throwing his body weight forward, praying to whatever deity listening no sudden bout of wind strong enough to pick him off his feet would come, he charged forward.

"Fuji!" he yelled, "Fuji! Wha…"

He stumbled, needing a minute to right himself as the wind suddenly died down. Suspiciously glancing down the corridor, but unable to discover anything abnormal, he carefully proceeded forward.

"No! Don't!" he almost missed the faint voice emerging from the room on his right, yet he recognized it on spot. Blood freezing abruptly, he desperately reached for the door, trying to forcefully wrench it open.

Only to find it stuck. Pulling like mad was in vain, pounding and pushing likewise remained without effect – adding to Tezuka's worries. Unable to calm his frantically beating hard, to cast off the horrifying pictures haunting his mind, he hit the door until his knuckles bled.

"Fuji! What is going on there?! Fuji! Open the door!"

"_Not yet._" a gentle, seductive, female voice crooned softly, making Seigaku's captain falter. Bloodied fists stopped mere centimetres from the doors smooth wooden surface. Where the hell did this woman come from?

"_Soon_." she crooned, her voice vibrating oddly, "_Soon we will be…_"

Silence – as if somebody else was speaking. But no matter how closely Tezuka listened, he couldn't catch a second voice – neither any clue of Fuji.

"_Yes_." breathily uttered "_One more. Only one more and then we shall fulfil our vows_."

A cold shudder ran down his spine. Overcome by a sudden sense of urgency he reached for the doorknob, and this time it gave away.

Wrenching the door open violently, Tezuka stumbled into a room basked in twilight. The pit-patter of rain falling outside returned, the wetness palpable within these walls. He blinked, trying to regain his sight –

- to see Fuji kneeling on the floor, only an arm's length away, head bowed and body strangely limp. But he moved – gracious, yes, elegant, yes – looking like a puppet masterfully played.

And when dull blue eyes turned upwards to fix a point behind Tezuka's left shoulder he knew instinctively and without a doubt, his team mate had been possessed.

"_Soon_." he said in a voice not his own, smiling a stranger's soft smile, "_Beloved. Soon_."

Voice trailing off, those blue orbs closed and like a puppet whose strings had been cut, Fuji collapsed. Seeing the small, motionless form, skin deathly white against dark floorboards, made Tezuka's heart speed up.

Eyes widening, he made to step forward.

"Fuji!"

Only to be repelled by an invisible fist slamming into his stomach. Pain flooded his senses. He stumbled, determination making him cling onto consciousness, even though white stars exploded in front of his eyes. His back hit the wall, yet the room's fogginess didn't abate.

The light was blurring, swimming, streams of grey fog crossing his vision. Fuji's lifeless figure faded in and out of view. Biting his lip, Tezuka gathered his nerves, setting a foot forward, only to be pushed back with vehemence.

Air rushed out of his lungs on impact, dizziness set in immediately. He couldn't move, his knees were shaking, threatening to give out. Pressing his eyes close, concentrating on the sensation of cooling sweat on his forehead, the rain outside, the barren wall behind his back, he gathered his nerves.

And opened his eyes to find himself face to face with the darkest eyes he'd ever seen. Where there had been empty air a split second before was no a male human being, drenched in shades of darkness. The white skin of the dead had gained a grey tinge, in a cruel mockery what might have once been a healthy tan. Black hair arranged artfully in a style that had gone out of fashion centuries ago. Tezuka remained mesmerized by the dark, maniacal gaze.

"Don't worry about your friend." the otherworldly being hissed and it sounded as if a hundred voices were hissing all at once, "Worry about yourself."

Grey, shapeless hands rose – nothing more than slices of grey fog attached to the figure's main body – reaching for Tezuka's throat. And darkness closed in.

* * *

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it and if you have suggestions or comments, please share them with me. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Ghost Hunt**

* * *

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Further warnings: focussed entirely on Fuji and Tezuka

Author is no native English speaker (always glad to accept corrections)

Angst

* * *

Hitsugayasugar: Thank you very much and I hope you like the following chapter. (And that the wait was worth it)

Speadee: Bringing in the families – well, that wasn't quite intentional on my part. It more or less just happened… and it was fun to write them.

Biont: What shall I say? I love scaring people (and am glad to know it is working).

Jingy5: I'm I was able to convey the atmosphere … because I wrote while sitting outside in a hammock and enjoying the sunshine…

Yoshikochan: Ahahah, thank you (melts into a puddle of goo). And don't worry about Tezuka, he won't go down without a fight! But well, he's also going to face some more trouble in the chapters to come….

Rike-sama: Ja, die langen, deutschen Sätze – ich kann mich ihrer nicht erwehren, egal welche Sprache ich spreche (oder zu sprechen versuche). Ansonsten – wow, erst einmal danke für den superlangen review – und um die Spannung nicht zu verderben, werde ich auch nix weiter verraten. -

Wizli: Sorry about the cliffhanger, though I admit that I do like them very, very much. Well, and if you liked the hat scene there is another scene like that somewhere further down the road…

Nymphadora1982: What happened there? Oh, well, an author with an overactive imagination happened. - But that aside, there is actually only one ghost, which is male and trying to kill poor buchou. And concerning the female, well, let's just say she isn't as much an ghost as a wandering soul.

Fantasize.dream: Hope you're going to enjoy the following chapter, too!

Everybody, thank you very, very much for reviewing!

Please enjoy!

* * *

**5. Toccata**

Cold, lifeless hands clutched at Tezuka's throat, cutting of his air supply and he found his vision growing hazy. With black spots dancing the room grew dimmer, noises disappeared and darkness was closing in.

"_Soon._" The female purred, "_Soon_."

Soon that choking sensation would be gone, Tezuka dazedly thought, soon the pain in his chest would be far, far away. He felt reality fading away, already. Slipping from his mind, the burning of his lungs so far removed from himself – maybe it was happening to somebody else. And if he only closed his eyes, he could rest.

Rest from this nightmare, rest and…

And never wake again.

With a choked scream Tezuka wrenched himself out of the ghost's grasp, throwing his body sideways. Gasping for breath, his vision hazy and blurred he barely heard the upset hiss, nor the high-pitched screech. Blindly dashing for the door, he felt tendrils of grey scratching his cheek, their clammy coldness immediately replaced by the warmth of blood. Stumbling into the corridor, he was just dimly aware of the enraged roar behind him, of the poor lightening heralding the onset of evening, of the wind howling outside.

His heard was pounding and the only thought on his mind was how close it had been, how he had almost forsaken everything. How he'd almost cast away his life carelessly, forgotten to put up a fight – he'd been facing certain death and he couldn't calm his heart, or his mind's frantic plead for escape.

He didn't want to die; not here, not at that thing's hand, not because he'd foolishly gotten himself into a situation he didn't understand.

Something clattered from the ceiling, smashing into a thousand tiny pieces upon impact, barely missing his head. Breathlessly he ran forward, not daring to look back, to scared of what he might find. This wasn't tennis, this weren't the ever so familiar courts. Hell, this wasn't even a game with known rules, this wasn't some petty robber after his money.

This was him, on his own in an unfamiliar, remote mansion, running from a vengeful ghost out for his life and Fuji lying abandoned and lifeless, fate unknown, in a small, darkening chamber.

This wasn't supposed to be happening!

He sprinted down the stairs, taking three at once, noting how temperatures dropped, the wind picked up and fixed his eyes at the front door. The strewn papers were rising, the ground trembled softly – a ghostly roar building up. There'd be no help once that thing descended - he had to get out first.

Death. He didn't even dare looking back, didn't dare to tear his eyes from the front door, that uncertain promise of safety – so terribly, terribly uncertain, yet the only one he could cling onto.

But what if it didn't work? Would we stumble outside, only to be killed underneath a cloudy November night sky? Would he die here, far removed from friends, family, a seemingly accidental death?

A grey tendril sneaked past his shoulder. Eyes widening dramatically, he acted purely on instinct and tossed his book bag into the ghost's general direction. The sound of an impact, far too close for comfort. For a short moment the terror abated, before a horrifying, enraged screech tore through the building.

Tezuka wrenched the door open and tumbled down the short staircase, landing in an ungraceful, breathless heap on worn tiles.

* * *

With a gasp, Fuji Yumiko shot up from where she'd dozed off over her psychology textbook. Pain throbbed through her head as the glaring lights from the kitchen lamp assaulted her eyes, and for a moment the world blurred again.

Then her eyes managed to focus and the chaos in her mind cleared. Heart beating rapidly she recalled the pictures she had seen. It might have been a nightmare…

"_You're too late." _

_Shadows danced as the wind raged on outside, bending trees and creating patterns on dark marble tiles. The candles flickered eerily, white markings glowing red on the floor. Her brother motionless in the centre, barely more than an unmoving bundle of clothes. Tezuka Kunimitsu present, too. _

"_It's already been done." the ghost announced, having approached the circle wherein Fuji's pale form rested. _

No, Yumiko shook her head decidedly, that hadn't been a nightmare. No matter how much she prayed, it hadn't been. Hopefully though nothing had happened yet…

"_You're too late." _

Uneasiness befell her. A sense of foreboding crept through her entire being, making her insides contract painfully. Something wasn't right, something…

She couldn't remain seated here. Not, when her brother was out there in the rain, somewhere. Maybe she'd never been able to prevent a vision… but, perhaps it wasn't too late yet.

Perhaps she could still…

"_You're too late." _

Biting her lip to stifle the confuse jumble of thoughts, she concentrated on the taste of blood instead. Trying to ward of the unbidden memories, the bitterness and fear, she pushed back the chair decidedly. Grabbing the car keys and nothing else, she ran out of the door with only one destination in mind.

"_You're too late." _

* * *

The first thing to register in his mind was the endlessly falling rain. Then all the little aches set in, one by one – the burning scratches, the hot trail of blood dripping down his cheek, a throbbing cursing through his right elbow from where he must have banged it against a wall. Scrapes and abrasions on his knees and shins from the hasty retreat.

He was rather lucky, he contemplated, turning so that he starred up through dead branches at a darkening clouded sky, he could have been killed. He could have fallen down that staircase, broken his neck and nobody would have been the wiser.

They'd explain it as an accident. Unusual, yes, but certainly not impossible. Like a suffering a stroke at fourty-seven.

Had his uncle known? Had he purchased the mansion knowing what wandered its halls or had he only suddenly come to face it – and everything had been over far too soon for him to even realize what transpired?

Tezuka Kunimitsu might never have met said great-uncle of his, still he bout of sympathy sparked in his heart as he know considered this man's tragic fate.

Wetness from mossy tiles slowly soaked through his coat and school uniform, cold and clammy against his back, while raindrops drenched his chest, rolling over his face and uselessly upturned hands. He was going to catch a cold if he stayed like this any longer, he realized, if not pneumonia.

But his body ached and –

And there was Fuji. Fuji whom he left for dead up there and … and … and to be honest, he had no idea how to help. There was one malevolent spirit out for his blood between him and the first floor chamber. And the last time he'd seen his friend, he hadn't been himself. Who knew what …

Tezuka's heart clenched painfully at the possibilities, as he sightlessly starred upwards, where an autumn fog begun gathering. There had to be a way to help his team mate. Staying outside couldn't be all he could do… But marching up spelled plain suicide. Hell, he had no problem with risking his life – as long as he had a chance of reaching the ends.

The fog thickened and began drifting away, out of the garden and onto the street, undisturbed by rain and wind.

Wide-eyed, Tezuka sat up, forgetting about aching muscles and sore abrasions on his body. He was a novice to the world of the ghosts and demons, but if logic meant anything in those realms, than this hadn't been an ordinary fog. There had been those grey tendrils hanging in the house, too – humid air from the outside, everybody had thought. But perhaps…

Those tentacle-like, undefined arms that had reached for his throat had been a darker fog's shade of grey. What had scratched his cheek so badly had looked no more solid than air…

If all was true, then the ghost had just left the mansion.

Tezuka had no clue, whether this was actually possible. He'd heard rumours about ghosts being bound to areas or buildings, he'd sometimes heard of wandering spirits, too. And even if he read the situation correctly, it might still be a hidden trap.

Like the ghost expecting him to return for his friend and…

Shaking his head, Tezuka pushed himself energetically to his feet. For a second he saw stars in front of his eyes, but the dizzy spell abated fast. Normality had resumed, there was nothing but the sheer endless rain, the empty trees and houses and the ever-growing darkness. Night was going to fall soon – he should hurry.

So what if he was rushing head over heels into an unknown situation, lacking both a clear understanding and a plan? Not to speak of weapons. Luck would either be with him tonight or condemn him to failure and death. No matter what it was going to be, he wouldn't sit by idly, when a friend's life was on the line. If he walked out there while Fuji died, maybe, just maybe dying would be a better option than a lifetime full of guilt.

Taking one more deep breath and wondering whether it would be his last, Tezuka opened the door. Sensations didn't fade the moment he crossed the threshold. The aches remained, the uncomfortable wetness of clothes weighted down by the rain, the hectic drumming of his heart. He felt alive.

Rushing up the stairs, he couldn't hide his elevation at tonight's first success. Now, if everything else could just work out too…

He'd never climbed a staircase that fast and reckless. Torn down a corridor quite like this, footfalls heavy and loud, banging against corners, slamming his full body weight against a door. It flew open with an explosive bang, admitting him into the small chamber, now almost completely submerged in darkness.

Fuji's body was still on the floor, exactly as it had been when Tezuka had fled the scene. No movement disturbed the penetrating tranquillity and he found himself holding his breath as he approached. Hopefully, hopefully he wasn't too late yet.

Sinking to his knees breathlessly, he reached out a trembling hand towards a thin neck.

"Fuji…" he whispered, voice choked with emotions.

Seigaku's tensai didn't stir. Eyes remained peacefully closed as if in sleep, white face relaxed, vulnerable and unguarded – like dead. But Tezuka's hand found a pulse underneath delicate skin. Faint, but very much there. So very, very much there and alive.

Tezuka blinked away the tears burning in the corner of his eyes and shook his friend's unresponsive form gently, calling out to him. Fuji's eyes remained closed however – but he was alive, Tezuka reminded himself, and that had almost been more than expected. Not after the ghost's ill intentions, not after everything that had happened.

But the feeling of his friend's warm body in his arms left his hands trembling with relief. Even if unconscious, holding onto something alive and real was the best sensation he had felt all night – no cold, shapeless hands, no disembodied voices, no drifting fog. Just a touch of normality, a hint of ordinary life outside of this nightmare – a promise that things could still end well. That escape was a possibility. That they could walk out here and never come back again. Sell that cursed building, or let it rot – whatever – cast it out of their minds and get on with their actual lives.

However the evening wasn't over yet. And the ghost could return any moment now.

Scooping up the surprisingly light body carefully, Tezuka hurried out of the chamber and through the corridor, eager to leave the penetrating darkness. Even the faint lantern light would be better than this. Climbing down the stairs faster than what could be considered prudent, he reached the front door in record time. Torrents of cold rain greeted him outside, but he welcomed them, tilting back his head, enjoying a sense of liberation. Of escape.

So what if he was going to catch a cold? At least he was alive. Had evaded an evil spirit, brought him and a team mate to safety – who cared if he got drenched in the process? The scratches on his cheek burned far worse than the rainwater's cold bite, and Fuji's dead weight in his arms screamed for immediate attention.

Who ever would have thought that the best course of action with a sick friend to take would be running out of a building into a dreary November evening? Tezuka felt tempted to laugh, but reined the hysterics in.

Fuji showed no sign of awakening, so the best course of action would be to call either his or Fuji's parents to pick them up. Or directly call an ambulance, Tezuka thought, noting the shivers cursing through his friend's light body.

Their cell phones, however, rested within their respective book bags. Which had remained in the building.

Together with train tickets, IDs, homework and money. Lovely, in other words, just like this weather. And this area was definitely lacking in helpful neighbours, Tezuka realized, as he turned to look at the surrounding houses.

No lights shone from empty windows, even as night slowly set in. Not even the flickering of a television screen lightened a single window. Nothing. They were completely alone.

Tezuka gently set Fuji's limp body down, leaning him against a tree in a valiant, but helpless attempt to keep him out of the rain. He would have gladly abandoned his coat for his friend, but seeing that it was completely soaked, he feared it would only worsen Fuji's constitution.

Carefully he reached out, brushing a few stray strands of light brown hair out of a face damp with cold sweat. Dimly he recalled always having wondered whether Fuji actually bleached his hair, but he pushed that aside and rested his palm on Fuji's forehead.

His friend felt abnormally warm, yet – if Tezuka dared to believe his feelings – not dangerously so. A slight fever, but no reason to panic. Yet.

So, he'd have to get hold of a cell phone first of all. Annoying, but…

Suddenly the door behind his back slammed open; the noise an explosion in the quiet rain. Ice cold air hit his back like a thousand tiny needles and Tezuka's heart stopped. Hadn't …

Hadn't he just deemed the nightmare over? Hadn't he just believed the escape successful? Their lives saved for the time being? And now, just when his heart had begun to calm, when he'd gathered hope, when things started looking up for the first time – had it all been for naught? Would he turn only to face death in form of colourless grey?

Was this all? Was this the end to all his efforts?

"_Foolish children_." he heard a deep, scathing voice speak.

Ice crawled through his veins, lungs constricting and brain frozen – he dared not to turn around. This couldn't be happening, couldn't, shouldn't, not when he'd just gotten them outside, not when he'd just deemed the situation _safe_.

But he recognized the voice, had heard it only once before, when grey, unshaped hands had reached for his throat, when he'd seen his life beginning to flash before his eyes, when…

"_Did you think you would escape that easily? You can run away, foolish child, run away as far as your feet carry you, but you will never escape. T__here is no escaping inevitability."_

Without even knowing what he was doing, Tezuka whirled around, almost loosing his balance in the process. Wide-eyed, he beheld the upright figure posing in the doorway.

A sense of surreal greyness filled the air around the man, his eyes glowed a deep, charcoal black. His clothes were blood-splattered, some older, some glowing an eerie, fresh red in the lantern light.

"_So have you faced death yet, child?_" ,he asked in that condescending voice that had the hair on the back of Tezuka's neck stand, "_Ignorance won't safe you, nor will running away, that I promise_."

The ghost stepped bodily out of the door, proudly looming over the overgrown lawn, a menacing silhouette in the darkness. Foreboding laughter rang in that distorted voice.

" _Consider your lives spared for tonight. Consider yourself safe and this gift as a reminder…_"

And with those words the ghost tossed two book bags down the stairs. One landed with a dull thud a mere half metre from Tezuka's incredulous eyes. He couldn't logically process what was happening, had long lost feeling within his frozen fingers - only the rapid pounding of his heart bound him to reality. Why those words, why no actions, why no sudden, unexpected death? Why could he still dimly feel the water running over his face, soaking through his clothes, the unnatural warmth radiating from Fuji?

"_Just a word of warning to you. If you value your life, don't interfere. Don't ever come back here_!" ,the ghost warned, smirking down on the tennis captain – the powerful, immortal entity towering over a mere mortal.

One last gleefully evil look cast over a grey shoulder at the two Seigaku players, leaving a soaked Tezuka, kneeling on the ground desperately clutching Fuji's lifeless form to his body, with a dark promise.

"_I'll have what is rightfully mine_."

* * *

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it and if you have suggestions or comments, please share them with me. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Ghost Hunt**

* * *

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Further warnings: focussed entirely on Fuji and Tezuka

Author is no native English speaker (always glad to accept corrections)

Angst

_AN: I'm very sorry for not writing review replies this time, but I hope posting two chapters instead of one makes up for that. Currently I'm stuck at some remote village (can't even pronounce the name correctly) where internet access is a rare luxury. I'm glad this pc is working at all... So sorry, if paragraphing and formatting end up messed up... _

Please enjoy!

* * *

**6. Sarabande**

The ghost's malevolent smirk left Tezuka fearing the worst. His heart continued pounding loudly, even as the door magically shut again and he was left alone in the rain, clutching Fuji's limp body to his chest.

'Let this be a nightmare.' he prayed, 'Let this be anything but reality.'

But the rain kept falling, pasting his hair to his head, running in cold trails over his face, soaking into his clothes that had long since lost any warmth they ever possessed. Shivering, he leaned forward, blindly reaching for the book bag.

A cell phone. Call home first, and then a warm shelter, a cup of tea, his bed – to close his eyes, to forget, to escape from this horror. Somebody to take the responsibility off his shoulders, somebody to look after Fuji, somebody to hand him a warm blanket…

With badly trembling hands he flipped the cell phone open, water droplet on his glasses distorting his sight atrociously – when he heard a noise.

The first noise this evening that sounded perfectly normal, sounded like ordinary civilization where ghosts didn't exist and haunted houses belonged into children's books or bad movies. A car was approaching – he saw the headlights cutting through the yet incomplete darkness.

He was far too exhausted to marvel at the car's beauty or that it came to stop in front of them. Relief flooded his body, weakening his knees – for a moment his vision whitened completely.

Then he heard steps approaching, blinked repeated to clear his swimming sight and found a rather distracted and worried Fuji Yumiko hurrying into their direction.

"Tezuka-kun…" she gasped, white-faced, "Are you alright? What happened? Where is my br …Syusuke!"

She hurried past Tezuka, crouching down in front of her brother's motionless form with trembling lips. When she reached out a hand Tezuka heard himself speaking in a voice that was far too calm to belong to himself.

"He should be alright. He is only running a slight fever, so he should be okay."

Yumiko, having registered the unusual warmth emitting from her younger brother's body, nodded and turned to Tezuka, somewhat relieved, yet the worry hadn't been banished.

"What happened, Tezuka-kun? What made…" she abruptly bit her lip, "Never mind."

With a frown she looked at the mansion, disgust warring with other, undefined emotions on her face, before she gave only a slight shake of her head.

"Never mind." she repeated, maybe more for her own sake than Tezuka's, who was too tired to take note of her peculiar behaviour. Otherwise he might have noted something like regret flashing in her eyes, the unhappy downturn of her lips or the way she had to force herself to turn away from the building.

"Let's get you both warmed up properly. We can talk then."

In a matter of minutes they had collected their school bags and climbed into the car. Fuji bundled up into blankets, stretched out in the backseat, his condition unchanged, while Tezuka had claimed one remaining, blue-checked blanket and the passenger seat for himself. In silence, he watched Yumiko steer out of the lonely area.

Night had fallen completely when they left the forgotten, old settlement behind.

* * *

"Tezuka-kun…" ,Yumiko started out tentatively, when they were sitting in the car, heading through thick traffic back home, "please tell me honestly what happened when you encountered the ghost."

Tezuka raised an eyebrow, but nodded in acquiescence.

She sighed. "Did you encounter the ghost in a smaller room upstairs? One that hasn't been in use for a long time?"

"I wouldn't know about that." Tezuka replied carefully, taken aback by that question's preciseness, "But yes, we were in a room upstairs."

"Why did you go upstairs?"

Tezuka shrugged. There'd been no specific reason he recalled. "Fuji-kun asked what was upstairs."

He wondered if he should comment on his team mate's alien behaviour. How he'd been so harried to get upstairs, how he had practically run away…

"Was my brother acting strange?"

It was frightening how much that woman, that was barely older than Tezuka himself, knew without having been there. Just maybe she only knew her brother too well – but Tezuka didn't dare to inquire, fearing the true answer.

In response to her question he simply nodded, feeling it wasn't his place to give the details. Yumiko, however, appeared satisfied with his abridged version.

"Were there…" she started, casually switching lanes to take the exit to downtown Tokyo, "Were there markings on the ground?"

"There were some characters on the paper…" Tezuka said, and Yumiko cut him off abruptly, "On the paper? You mean the paper we left there yesterday evening?"

"Yes those." Tezuka affirmed, wondering why he felt as if he was giving the wrong answer. Yumiko silently bit her lip, casting a worried look at her brother's pale face in the review mirror.

"There were no markings on the ground otherwise?" she questioned.

"No." to the best of Tezuka's recollection the ground had been free of any strange or visible emblems, "I didn't see any."

She nodded, looking even more concerned then previously.

"The voice Syusuke was talking in was a female's, wasn't it?"

That kind of knowledge would have frightened Tezuka deeply had he been more awake at that moment. Dimly, he acknowledged that something strange was going on, that supernatural forces were at work again – but he couldn't bring himself to care after everything that had happened today.

After his tiny nod of confirmation Yumiko continued. "What happened then? How did you get out?"

"We…" Tezuka had to gather his wits here, "When Fuji had… well, he collapsed and the ghost turned to me. I …"

"Did all you could to survive." Yumiko filled in for him, eyeing the scratches that had only stopped bleeding fifteen minutes ago, "And it was a narrow affair." she stated firmly.

Tezuka would have protested, but he knew when to keep his silence. "Like that, yes." ,he said instead, "I left the house … and a bit later I saw a strange fog drifting out and well, went in, fetched Fuji and left again."

Saying it like this made it all sound horribly unspectacular. All the emotional aspects – dread, horror, desperation – were lost completely. Still, it seemed as if Yumiko understood, even without the right words from his part.

"Which was an incredibly foolish and risky thing to do, but I'm grateful to you nonetheless. Anyways…" she abruptly brought the car to stop at a traffic light. "As you might have realized, that fog was the ghost in another form. That spirit isn't bound tightly to the house, after all."

Tezuka broke the ensuing silence just when the light switched to green.

"That black box we retrieved… what was in it?"

"Ah, that one?" Yumiko asked, pulling into a residential area, "It works like a camera. We usually use it to get a look at our ghost, but considering how powerful this one was I wouldn't be surprised if we won't see anything."

Before she could fall into contemplative silence again, Tezuka cleared his throat and changed the topic to something far more dear to his heart. "Ano… is Fuji going to be okay?" he asked, hating himself for sounding that uncertain.

A slightly tired, but warm smile greeted him. "He should be. Syusuke's never been fond of being possessed and with his cold that must have been enough to knock him out."

It was enough to sooth the worst of his concerns, but Tezuka wondered why Yumiko didn't appear as relieved as her words reflected. Before long, however, the car turned into a familiar street, where every second window shone in a warm, golden hue. Curtains drawn, televisions running, people moving about – the last remnants of that cold, lonely feeling disappeared from his veins as they neared his house.

"Thank you for being such a good friend to my brother." Yumiko said suddenly, looking straight ahead while bringing the car to a stop in front of his home.

A little confused, Tezuka inclined his head nonetheless. But his home was just outside, his bed a mere couple of footsteps away, so he wasn't up for conversation any longer. Tomorrow was another day, tomorrow, maybe he'd be able to make something out of this situation, but right now he only wanted to collapse into his bed.

He was on autopilot when he exchanged the formal goodbyes with Yumiko, even though they appeared superfluous in light of their situation. And only when he disappeared inside the house she drove off, after letting her wistful gaze linger a bit longer at the welcoming family home.

'Only a little longer.' she mumbled to herself, 'Be his friend only a little longer, Tezuka-kun.'

* * *

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it and if you have suggestions or comments, please share them with me. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Ghost Hunt**

* * *

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Further warnings: focussed entirely on Fuji and Tezuka

Author is no native English speaker (always glad to accept corrections)

Angst

_AN: I'm very sorry for not writing review replies this time, but I hope posting two chapters instead of one makes up for that. Currently I'm stuck at some remote village (can't even pronounce the name correctly) where internet access is a rare luxury. I'm glad this pc is working at all... So sorry, if paragraphing and formatting end up messed up... _

Please enjoy!

* * *

**7. Elegie**

The rain had continued all through the night, a soothing noise that had lulled Tezuka into sleep early on and by the time he woke, bleary-eyed and still exhausted, the next morning he felt far removed from yesterday's events. His recollections possessed an unfamiliar surreal quality, and he shoved them away before he became lost in them.

Trance-like he observed his usual routines, secretly glad there was no tennis practice due to the rain. It was comfortable, for once, to run on autopilot. Just walk ahead, hold onto your umbrella and do your best not to mind cold and rain.

Hopefully all that rain would become snow soon. Snow, at least, wasn't as depressing as all this rain. Snow brought a lot of happy memories, too.

* * *

"Good morning." he heard Oishi's familiar voice greet, the moment he stepped on the train, "What a horrible weather."

"Hn." Tezuka replied, but Oishi was obviously only a little more awake then him. His friend, instead of trying to converse like he usually did, held a very strange monologue.

"We won't be able to get any practice done if it continues like this. Who knows, maybe they'll cancel school someday – though, probably not, but I suppose there'll be some lessons not taking place due to sickness. I mean, who wouldn't get sick in that weather. If taken to drinking more tea than is healthy and, you know, Kaidou recently seriously contemplated asking Inui to come up with some anti-cold juice…"

Yes, the weather did funny things to people.

"Momoshirou and Eiji protested, though I get the feeling some people actually considered that option. Who knows, if this continues, I might do that, too…"

Tezuka found himself contemplating whether Inui was capable of coming up with a juice to exorcise nasty spirit's, before shaking his head to clear his thoughts.

"Anyway…" Oishi's concerned voice suddenly cut through his thoughts, sounding more awake than previous, "What happened to your cheek?"

Subconsciously Tezuka brought a hand up to the thin red line that ran diagonally across his right cheekbone. He'd wiped away the blood last night and the cut had looked far less dangerous than it had done previously. His mother had been half-hysterical the moment he'd walked through the door – but luckily her worries had easily been soothed.

She hadn't seen the ring of green and purple bruises circling his neck, either.

"An accident." Tezuka heard himself reply, unable to tell Oishi anything that even barely resembled the truth.

"Accident?" Oishi repeated in disbelief, just like his father had.

"Hn." Tezuka said, indicating that he wouldn't be revealing anymore details. How could he – when he'd tried his best to keep it from even his family.

But what had frightened him even more had been his father's contemplative expression. Kuniharu hadn't spoken up then, but later on he'd come up to Tezuka's room, sat down on his bed and looked at his hands before voicing his concerns.

'You were at that house again, weren't you?' Kuniharu had asked, 'Don't worry, I won't tell your mother – but are you okay?'

Tezuka had nodded, lips pressed together in a thin line. His father reached out, tugging at Tezuka's collar, revealing blue and green bruises around his throat.

'The ghost tried to kill you, Kunimitsu, didn't it?' he had said, 'But it didn't try to kill Fuji-kun the first time we went there. Do you have any idea why?'

And Tezuka had had to shake his head. He could have mentioned the possession, the ghost's threatening promise, or the way he felt things were slowly adding up to form one horrid picture, but right then he only wanted to close his eyes and sleep.

Recalling this conversation with a frown, Tezuka glanced at Oishi. He couldn't possibly share his concerns with him, not even if Oishi had been his best friend for years. Not when those discrepancies left his blood colder than ice.

* * *

There was a small commotion when they arrived at school. At first, it was pretty much invisible. Only the excited note tinting voices exchanging the latest rumours gave away that something had happened. Tezuka would have avoided the entire thing, hadn't his classroom lead him past the source of all disquiet.

"Nya, hello Oishi, buchou!" Eiji emerged from the convergence of third-year students crowding the entryway to his classroom. His voice was cheerful, yet strained. A shadow of a frown hung over his face, as if he was worried, but yet unsure if he ought to show it.

"Good morning." Oishi replied, while Tezuka nodded.

"What is going on?" Oishi asked, forehead wrinkled in concern. Who knew what tragic fate had befallen a fellow student today – he'd come to witness a lot at school. From senseless cruelty, to accidental harm or nervous breakdowns. It always left him with a sense of dread, recalling that either he or one of his friends could be next.

"Nya…" Eiji's eyes flitted back to his classroom, "I don't know what it is exactly. But somebody left flowers on Fuji's desk."

That wasn't exactly unusual, Tezuka thought.

"A love declaration?" Oishi wondered aloud, eyes straying over to all the people lingering around. Perhaps it was something extravagant, like an oversized bouquet of roses, or whatever else the female imagination managed to conjure up.

"Must have been a goth, then." Eiji's laughter was brittle and false and died soon. He didn't mask the worry when he spoke next. "The flowers were all black."

* * *

Tezuka arrived home late in the afternoon, having stayed at school to finish his homework together with Oishi. He felt a little better than before, having successfully submerged himself in mathematics.

With a grateful smile he shed shoes and coat, closing the door behind him, shutting out the cold rain. Warmth greeted his face and his muscles relaxed immediately. A spicy aroma wafted through the air – they were having curry for dinner, he could tell.

He'd just fix himself a cup of tea and then go to his room and read until diner was ready. Nothing for school, a nice book perhaps – or he'd look through his last edition of Tennis Pro Monthly once again – he wasn't sure if he'd already read everything there.

Making his way through the living room, greeting his grandfather, he occupied himself with wondering which tea would suit him best in this weather. Absentmindedly, he muttered a 'hello' to his mother, missing her tensing shoulders.

"Say, Kunimitsu…" his mother started without turning from the stove, "Have you been at the mansion yesterday?"

Usually he'd have simply answered 'yes'. But memories of the encounter stayed his words, and he instinctively sensed there was more to his mother's question than a simple inquiry. He felt his grandfather's gauging gaze boring into his back, heard the steel underneath his mother's gentle tone.

"Did something happen?" he asked carefully. The bruises on his neck throbbed and he repressed the urge to reach up and touch them – he'd managed to ignore them most of the day, keen on keeping yesterday's horrid encounter out of his mind – but now he felt them twice as strong.

She turned and there was no smile on her face, only a weary grimace. All of a sudden Tezuka thought she looked old, sporting wrinkles he never noticed before.

"The police called while you were at school. Somebody discovered a body in the backyard."

"What?!" he failed at hiding his shock.

Tezuka Ayana's shoulders slumped and her eyes strayed over to the window. Sadly, she gazed out into the rain before speaking again.

"It was a five-year old girl. She fell into the pond and drowned, sometime late yesterday night."

"A…" The news left him breathless. Disbelief drained all colour from his face, shock and grief warring for dominance in his heart.

A five-year old girl?! Drowned in the pond?

His mother continued, before Tezuka could decide on how he felt. "The police assumes it has been an accident. There are…"

She swallowed, struggling to breech an emotional barrier. Tezuka held his breath, dimly aware of how alien it seemed to see his usually calm and unperturbed mother fumbling for words.

"They don't know who she was or what she was doing out there in the night. And there hasn't been a missing person report filed for children from the area. The police suspect however, that the girl has been illegally in the country – there have already been cases where migrants or homeless people tried to inhabit the abandoned houses in that area."

Another silence fell, grave and heart-wrenching.

"Most probably nobody will show up to claim her body."

His mother turned away, her back to the room's occupants. A shaking hand made its way up to her face, while Tezuka swallowed thickly, trying to dislodge the lump blocking his throat. Unbidden images arose, of a small, lifeless body lying on a cold metal table somewhere, doomed to remain nameless forevermore.

Nobody to grieve her, nobody to saying goodbye, no last reminder of having been loved, once. A fate, Tezuka thought, blinking away tears burning in the corner of his eye, he wouldn't wish onto his very worst enemy. Especially not a five-year old child.

"They say it was an accident…" his mother repeated, voice choked and back still turned, "But I … after Wednesday night I don't know what to believe anymore…"

Drawing a deep breath and doing his best to ignore the observing glances his grandfather kept casting into his direction, Tezuka Kunimitsu then voiced a foreign opinion.

"The ghost." biting his lip "Yes. I think he killed her."

He recalled the murderous gleam lightening those dark eyes all too well, and the scratches on his cheek were still throbbed in the cold.

"Kunimitsu." was all his grandfather said. The deep and steady voice asked for an explanation, holding not a trace of judgement concerning the irrational words his grandson had just spoken.

"I went there, mother, grandfather. Yesterday, straight after school I went there together with Fuji." ,he admitted in a strained tone, wondering dimly why the tint of regret colouring his voice had nothing to do with not having told his family the truth but everything to do with a stranger's death, "He… wanted to look at some results from the night before. And I … I was curious, too. So we … well, we had another encounter with the spirit then."

He shuddered at the memory and missed how his mother turned around abruptly, frightened.

"Fuji's sister picked us up afterwards…" he deliberately left out the part how she had suddenly just appeared on the scene, without any explanation whatsoever. Maybe he already started thinking like Fuji or Eiji, accepting her clairvoyance without question. Her questions had been so precise, as if she'd already known everything…

And then he recalled her disturbed expression at a minor alteration, at something that hadn't been right and hurriedly tried to banish any further thoughts. What was enough to disturb Yumiko had to be frightening for any other soul.

"Did… do the police suspect…?" Tezuka asked, suddenly scared.

His mother – who had approached without him noticing – put her hands on his trembling shoulders, gazing deeply into his eyes. A warm, loving and yet so heart-wrenchingly sad smile bloomed on her lips.

"An accident, Kunimitsu. That's all they think. And if you haven't seen the poor girl while you were there, they'll never know anybody has been there yesterday at all."

His heart sped up, and he couldn't keep the surprise off his face. This outrageous claim of his mother – to lie to the police when a human being had been killed – made him shudder. Still he melted into her warm embrace.

"That poor girl." she muttered and Tezuka dimly understood. A child, dead, unnamed and – perhaps – unloved by its parents, it would have any decent human being's feelings in uproar. But she was a mother, too.

And a child dead, a child threatened – hands ghosted over the scratches on his cheek, tender and so very warm – asked for countermeasures. His mother had seen her own son in place of that five-year old girl, abandoned and alone, even in death, and…

"Kunimitsu." she breathed, affectionately petting his hair, "I would like to… I want to see that ghost … gone. I don't care how or what, but I just don't want… anybody else to get hurt."

Her palm once again found the ghost's bloody marks on Tezuka's face. There were tears in her eyes, he realized to his consternation.

"I know Fuji-san that this… this thing was strong. But somebody certainly must be able to do something about it. And I don't care how much money they want, this isn't about money anyways. We'll just sell the house afterwards, that should be enough to cover the expenses…"

She chuckled humourlessly at the thought of wasting so much money on paranormal phenomena. But things had gone too far, she couldn't very well watch another child die. Not when her own son had come into harm's way, too.

"Would you… could you call Fuji-kun and ask him whether he or Fuji-san knows anybody capable of getting rid of that ghost? Tell him I don't care about the prices, as long as they'll just do away with that horrid creature…"

Gently Tezuka detached himself, looking into his mother's grief-stricken, but determined hazel eyes.

"Mother, I would. But Fuji wasn't at school today and I think he's sick, so maybe… maybe it would be better if you just called Fuji-san directly."

He dimly wondered if that idea was really that good, remembering Fuji Yumiko's pale face yesterday, her strange, precise questions and mutterings about visions. Her eyes had held such disgust when she'd looked back at the mansion that Tezuka wondered, right now, whether she might have known about that five-year old girl. Whether she had seen what was about to happen – and hadn't said a word.

But Tezuka Ayana stepped back and nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, yes, I will just do that."

* * *

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it and if you have suggestions or comments, please share them with me. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Ghost Hunt**

* * *

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Further warnings: focussed entirely on Fuji and Tezuka

Author is no native English speaker (always glad to accept corrections)

Angst

* * *

Review Replies:

2bloodly2love: Thank you, thank you, thank you! I suppose I'll take you up on changing the genre… either now or sometime in the near future -;

le lapin: Uuh. Apostrophes… I'm glad as long as I get half of them right. Anyways, hope you'll like the next chapter.

Sango Hikari: Sorry for the long wait this time around; hope you're still excited to see another chapter. And concerning Yumiko – well, she still may have some story to tell. -

Speadee: Curiously enough, that girl had never appeared in my first outline for the fic. She only showed up while writing and well, suffered not the best of fates.

Nymphadora1982: I'm glad to have been able to keep up the suspense. And at some point I'll also get around to clear up the meaning of Yumiko's last sentence, as well as why Fuji doesn't like to be possessed. (though, not in this chapter, sorry).

Yoshikochan: Concerning Oishi and Eiji – sometimes, when writing something serious I get the strange desire turn the entire thing into a comedy. Usually I don't give in, but small bits slip through – like Oishi's monologue (and I also wanted to give the characters something to laugh about; they don't get around to do that very much otherwise).

Hitsugayasugar: Always glad to hear I actually manage to achieve what I set out to – create suspension. -

Vierblith: Hope you like the following chapter -.

Please enjoy!

* * *

**8. Méditation**

"Kunimitsu!" ,Ayana announced not quite twenty minutes later, her voice cool and business-like once more, "Grab your coat, we're going to Fuji-san's. I'll just wrap dinner up. Is that okay with you, Kunikazu? Haru-chan will be home soon, so the two of you can eat together. If I find something out I'll tell you later tonight!"

Tezuka frowned; his mother's sudden change of mood bode no good. She had gone from almost-devastated to determined in a matter of minutes – and he didn't quite like the way her eyes kept glittering. He didn't dare to protest though, and silently put on his scarf and gloves once more.

"Fuji-san offered to do the exorcism herself." Ayana said as an explanation while slipping over her own woollen coat, grabbing the car keys on the way out, sounding maliciously happy.

Kunikazu raised an eyebrow at his daughter-in-law, fixing her with a inquiring stare – one that she met head-on. Tezuka Ayana was not, had never been and would never be malicious. But she, too, couldn't shake the sense of righteous satisfaction creeping up on her with the prospect of having that ghost finally banished in mind. Hell, not even Tezuka Kunimitsu would at this stage stop to consider whether their actions were actually right.

There was a dead girl. Dead by accident, to everyone's eyes. Dead, unnamed and unknown forevermore, due to the actions of a ruthless ghost. How in the world could they just avert their eyes, ignore this and move on?

This was, Tezuka knew and his grandfather also understood, not about justice. Maybe, at some point, the question of right and wrong came in. But foremost, this was about responsibility.

They had known about the ghost. Had personally experienced it's presence, been warned and still – still hadn't thought it serious enough to act at once. And now, only after somebody had died, they decided to take action.

Perhaps it was late – but hopefully not too late to prevent anything else from happening.

"She said it would be possible with a bit of background knowledge about that beast." His mother's voice suddenly penetrated his thoughts, "Kunimitsu, be a dear and fetch that blue folder from your father's desk – it should contain whatever we've got concerning that house."

Tezuka obliged wordlessly. His mother's sudden, gleeful enthusiasm frightened him, and he knew better then to protest right now.

Her driving style tonight was equally reckless. Cutting across several lanes, turning corners sharply and paying an astonishing disregard to speed limits and road conditions, she still managed to manoeuvre them safely through the evening traffic.

When she parked the car in another broad, silent street, she looked once more at her own son. A soft smile ghosted across her lips and Tezuka wondered what went on in her head.

"I was thinking…" she said gently, "If nobody shows up to claim that girl's body… if nobody comes for her - we could hold a funeral for her instead."

Her smile said that yes, she realized that this was perhaps a classically female whim, but she wanted to indulge it, because it simply felt _right_.

"I just keep thinking of that poor thing, and you know, leaving her to total strangers who might do god knows what with her body, well, I won't stand for that. So what do you think?"

In other words, Tezuka realized and his heart throbbed oddly, his mother didn't only feel sympathetic, but also responsible. And he couldn't deny any of those feelings either. They'd seen the ghost, been warned about its malevolent intents.

Who knows if they'd ever done something about it, hadn't that little girl meet a premature death.

This wasn't even about responsibility anymore, he realized, looking at his mother's gentle face. This went far beyond – touching something deep within his own heart he couldn't find words for.

"Yes." he agreed, mirroring that small smile, "I think that is a good idea, mother."

It was the least they could do for a nameless little girl, whose life had served little more to proof a known threat.

"Good." his mother said, her clear voice effectively cutting through his foggy thoughts. He caught her fixing her hair in the review mirror, before pushing open the car door. They left their umbrellas inside, running the small distance to the Fuji's doorway.

Thankfully, somebody answered the door shortly after the bell rang – Fuji Yumiko, looking less posh than usual, yet she still had the energy to greet them with all the formalities demanded.

"Kunimitsu…" ,his mother addressed him as they had entered the spacious, spotless living room, that held everything but persons – one thing he'd noted early upon entering the Fuji household; the house was always spotless, neat and aesthetically perfect, but it usually lacked inhabitants.

With Yuuta at Fuji's father at work overseas and his mother travelling the world, there was rarely anybody there to make the house feel like a home.

"Kunimitsu, why don't you go upstairs and say hello to Fuji-kun." his mother sweetly suggested. Tezuka recognized an order when he heard one, especially when Yumiko handed him a tray with two steaming cups of tea, cookies and an assortment of odd snacks.

"Ja, have fun." she said, but her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

Tezuka felt slightly foolish, watching the females disappear into the living room, but then he shook his head. They would tell them in time, he told himself and turned to take the stairs up.

* * *

Wandering the corridor, he wondered if Fuji would actually welcome a visitor. Last time he'd seen his team mate, he'd been out cold after a possession. Did Fuji remember being possessed after all?

For a brief second he recalled the black flowers at school, earlier today, but forcefully shoved the thought away. There was no need to mention that extremely tasteless joke unless he wanted to liven up the dreary November by watching Fuji extract his revenge.

He entered the dim room after having knocked and received a hoarse 'come in' from Fuji. The curtains were drawn, and the only source of light was a small bedside lamp near a mountain of blankets.

"Tezuka?" the mountain moved and Fuji's head emerged, hair tangled and face flushed. He blinked sleepily, as if he had just woken up.

"Aa." he said, approaching his friend's bed and setting down the tray.

"Thank you." Fuji propped himself up on is elbows, then doubled over coughing. Up close he looked even paler and the dark circles underneath his eyes belied a restful sleep.

"How are you?" Tezuka asked, holding out a cup of tea, after Fuji's coughing fit had abated.

"Honestly?" his friend whispered, lips twitching in a weak shadow of a smile, "I've been better."

He gratefully accepted the tea, closing his eyes and carefully taking a sip before turning to Tezuka once more. "What brings you here, buchou?"

Tezuka involuntarily closed his eyes, recalling the tragic news and instinctively questioning, whether he ought to share them with a person this sick. He didn't know for sure, but he himself still wasn't entirely sure whether he ought to feel guilty that a little girl had died after he had escaped.

"My mother had a question." was his diplomatic response.

Fuji looked at him seriously. "Did something happen?"

When Tezuka failed to respond, the smaller regular continued. "My sister didn't exactly tell me, but I guessed something bad happened or was going to happen…"

"A girl." Tezuka said, starring out through the crack in the curtains, where water was sliding down the window plane and the world outside remained hidden in total blackness. "A five-year old girl drowned in the mansion's pond last night."

Even though he was already abnormally pale, Fuji blanched further. "So that's what it was." he muttered and was taken over by another coughing fit; one that lasted longer than the previous one and rendered him breathless, leaning weakly against the pillows.

Casting the worries from his mind for the time being – his team mate was already at home and lying down and there was nothing more that could be done for him short of taking him to a hospital – Tezuka concentrated on the topic at hand.

"My mother wants the ghost exorcised. Do you… do you think that is possible?"

Last Monday, Tezuka registered in the back of his head, he wouldn't have dreamed of asking a question like this. He would have been the first to deny the existence of ghosts – of all things paranormal – until two nights ago. And even now, he wasn't sure whether he was only making exceptions for one special case.

"Most certainly it is possible." Fuji replied, still trying to catch his breath, "And we'll do it, too."

He breathed deeply, drawing his knees to his chest and reaching for the tea again.

"Nee-san, well, she usually doesn't like the idea of exorcising rashly. Ghosts… you know, ghosts were human beings, too. Only, they had something left to do, when they died, something that kept them from finding peace. And, usually, helping to fulfil that last task puts them to rest, too. Banishing a spirit however …. Well, we don't know what happens to the ghost exactly, but the idea of leaving a task unfinished forevermore – it just seems wrong. It just…"

Violent coughing disrupted his words and Tezuka's heart clenched painfully, as he watched his friend double over, clutching helplessly at his chest.

"Sorry." Fuji gasped afterwards, trying to pull himself together, yet his trembling hands barely managed holding the teacup steady.

"Sorry. We're going to get rid of the ghost for good this time."

_What are you really apologizing for?_ Tezuka frowned. For a split second he recalled his mother's words on responsibility – was Fuji of all people entertaining the same sentiment? And was that still only responsibility?

When had the line between responsibility and guilt started blurring? It had always been so clear in his mind, but now, looking back, evaluating his own motivations – wasn't it guilt that brought him and his mother to Fuji's house? Wasn't it guilt that made Yumiko declare such a harsh decision, forgoing her usual principles?

Were they all only predictable fools tottering on a stage without actually being aware of it? Wasn't there…

"How about we go down there and help them with the planning?" Fuji's faint voice cut effectively through his thoughts. Tezuka raised his eyes to meet a tentative smile – tired, yes; trembling, yes, but very, very determined.

Tezuka raised an eyebrow at the outrageous suggestion. Fuji wasn't in any condition to be leaving his bed, but then again – his friend was right, this concerned them too, they couldn't just leave the planning to the adults. Not as long as Tezuka wondered, whether that little pre-school girl had had to die only because he didn't.

"Ne, let's go Tezuka." Fuji said, struggling to his feet. He wouldn't have gotten very far, if not for Tezuka's arm wrapped around his shoulders, but together they managed the slow trek downstairs.

* * *

Both, Tezuka Ayana and Fuji Yumiko weren't too pleased to see them, not only interrupting their conversation, but demanding to be a part of it.

"You ought to stay in bed and rest." Yumiko told her brother who only smiled and hid a cough behind his hand in response.

Ayana glared at her son, silently promising there'd be a talk once they were at home. Tezuka, on the other hand, tilted his chin up and said. "We were there yesterday and we encountered the ghost. So we thought maybe we could be of help."

The two females exchanged a glance, until Ayana sat back with a sigh and Yumiko waved them over. "Sit down, then. We might need your story later on."

"Thank you." Tezuka bowed before sitting down beside his team mate.

Yumiko started, "We were just trying to gather a few facts about our ghost – how old do you think it was?"

"Ancient.", Fuji muttered at the same time as Tezuka said: "Judging by the clothing, it might have originated from the early Tokugawa phase."

"Roughly when the house was build then." Ayana concluded, "1608, that's what the documents say. I wonder if the builder is identical with the ghost? Or maybe the architect or anybody else closely involved with the building process?"

"That would all be possible. Necessary is only having a close attachment to this house." Yumiko said, "Do you have the name of the person who had the house build?"

"Tatsunori Ichirou" Ayana read, "He was a merchant who'd made money from overseas trade."

While Yumiko pondered, Ayana shot in a further question. "Would it be a necessary requirement for a ghost to haunt the place he died at?"

Fuji Syusuke was the one who answered. "Yes. Ordinarily, that is. Actually, there are few examples to the opposite, and most of them seem most legendary. Why do you ask?"

"Because that man who had the house built died on the battlefield somewhere down in the south." Ayana said and Yumiko raised an eyebrow.

It threw quite a wheel into the workings, Tezuka thought, to have their main suspect ruled out so suddenly.

"Then…" Yumiko started anew, eyes unusually dark, "Who did die in that house? Early in the 17th century?"

"A lot of people, supposedly." Ayana replied with a shrug, "Rumour claims no owner died a natural death there, but I have no documentation on that. It's all rumours in the end."

Silence descended over the small group, only broken by the raindrops hitting the window and Fuji's stifled coughs. His friend's pallor had grown worse, but he held up well, so Tezuka refrained from commenting for now.

Ayana suddenly looked up. "Did you get any results on Wednesday, actually?"

"Ah, yes." Yumiko turned around "We got something, but nothing really new. That little black box – it usually works like a camera. Well, we only got a vaguely humanoid grey blob, which means that our ghost isn't bound to some form. He can freely change his appearance."

Tezuka nodded, remembering slivers of grey fog sliding past him last night.

"It isn't bound to the house, either." Fuji added suddenly.

Yumiko tilted her head. "Not in spirit, no. But … did any murder ever happen outside of the mansion's grounds? Because I suppose our ghost has restrictions…"

"That would be unusual, nee-san." Fuji protested, coughing slightly, "If a ghost can kill at one place and isn't bound to it, than he should be able to do so wherever he wants to."

"Ordinarily." Yumiko allowed herself a grim smile. "But I suspect killing at another place might interfere with said ghost's intentions. Why else would he have made that little girl come into the garden if he could have killed her somewhere else?"

Ayana froze and Tezuka frowned. Yumiko, once again, revealed more details than anybody else had known previously.

"The writing on the sheets." Yumiko suddenly turned to him "What did they say?"

Recalling the brownish splotches, Tezuka recounted a couple of words. "It made little sense, most of it was words like 'Death. Loss.' And the like."

"Might that be a clue to the ghost's objective?" Ayana questioned, leaning forward.

"It could. But we know far too little right now." Yumiko said. "If you don't mind using some unconventional methods, we could try to find out a little more."

* * *

Well, not much action this time around. But there is a séance coming up next…

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it and if you have suggestions or comments, please share them with me.


	9. Chapter 9

**Ghost Hunt**

* * *

Disclaimer: Not mine. 

Further warnings: focussed entirely on Fuji and Tezuka

Author is no native English speaker (always glad to accept corrections)

Angst

Please enjoy!

* * *

**9. Choral**

"_It could. But we know far too little right now." Yumiko said. "If you don't mind using some unconventional methods, we could try to find out a little more."_

"I don't mind." Ayana replied immediately, and Yumiko reached for a deck of tarot cards that had until then rested unseen on the edge of the sofa table. Tezuka raised an eyebrow in question, looking at his mother's face in order to gauge her reaction, but if she was taken aback, it wasn't showing on her face. In fact, she looked as solemn and serious as before, only a tad tenser, perhaps.

Was this a good idea, Tezuka asked himself, should they … dabble in the occult concerning such an important issue? Rely on such an insecure, school-girlish source of information, when people had died?

Glancing contemplatively out into the cold, rainy night, he realized, that even though his logical mind was protesting vehemently, demanding for him to immediately distance himself from such utter _nonsense_, his gut held no objections. This was not logical. But right.

When he turned back to the conversation, his mother was leaning forward and the room appeared darker than before. Fuji's laboured breathing was almost drowned by the rain outside, but Tezuka still flashed a worried look into his friend's direction, before redirecting his attention to the older sister.

"Hm. Let me try to summarize everything we know." Yumiko spoke while beginning to shuffle the cards. The low sound did little to dispel the tension hanging in the air.

Ayana's knuckles were white where she was twisting them into the folds of her skirt, unconsciously waiting for something to happen.

"The ghost is ancient, and was maybe involved with the process of the house's building."

The rain, all of a sudden, sounded so much louder, now, that practically everyone was holding their breath.

"The ghost has been killing inhabitants for a long time. Not only inhabitants, but also passer-byes."

Ayana nodded, swallowing past a lump in her throat. Now was not the time for grieve or passion, there'd be enough time later on. Now was the time to make sure, nothing like that would ever happen again.

"The killings however remain the appearance of natural death or accidents. It is also possible, that the ghost is unable to kill outside of the house."

Fuji's eyes wandered over to the window.

"Those killings however, are committed for a certain cause; … a 'vow' given to a 'beloved', one that 'soon' will be fulfilled."

Tezuka shuddered, feeling cold suddenly. With overwhelming dread he recalled the black roses at school earlier today, the ones he had yet to mention, the ones he'd called a school-girl's overdramatic revenge for a rejection. Perhaps…

"Let's begin with some simple questions." Yumiko announced, suddenly and Ayana almost flinched "Tezuka-san, you first."

"The girl that drowned…" she whispered, "What was her name?"

Yumiko's eyes flashed in the half-light, she turned a card and gave her brother a half-smile. "No answer, yet an answer." she replied, while Ayana watched the card in astonishment.

Fuji seemed to have expected this. "She wasn't the only one, ne?"

The next card showed a clear 'yes'. And as Fuji dissolved into another fit of coughing, Ayana took up the questioning once again.

"Is the ghost identical with the builder?"

"Yes."

"Why does he kill all those people?"

"Wrong… the question…. Rephrase it, the answer would be 'no', but that…"

Suddenly suspicious Tezuka shot in. "Why _did_ he kill all those people?"

The light in Yumiko's eyes darkened suddenly and she froze for moments. Suddenly, she slumped forward, cards tumbling out of her hands and she groaned. Holding her head she looked back up at a worried Ayana.

"We already know the answer." she stated grimly.

And for a moment, everything ground to a halt. Thoughts – jumbled and half-formed – flashed through Tezuka's mind, pictures, memories, noises. The writings, that shapeless lump of grey, a female's voice – but he couldn't put everything together. He just couldn't find the answer, no matter how much he tried.

After they'd sat in silence for a while, listening to wind and rain filling the darkness outside, it was Tezuka who took up the word once more.

"Would that mean the ghost doesn't intend to kill anymore?"

Yumiko spoke as herself, not as the oracle in reply. "I'm not sure about that. That were all intentional killings, but there's …" Her eyes saddened here, but she was just as quick as her brother at smoothing over expressions of hurt and sadness.

"I just don't trust that ghost."

And that wasn't the whole story, Tezuka instinctively understood, seeing Yumiko exchange glances with her younger brother. Were they hiding something?

Was there something they knew?

Dimly, he remembered his father raising the point, that the ghost had always been malevolent – tried to kill Tezuka after all – yet Fuji had escaped alive. Twice. And when they'd arrived tonight, Yumiko had already known about the dead girl. Not to mention, she'd arrived at the mansion's doorstep just like this last night – and nobody had called her, nobody had even known that Tezuka and Fuji had gone there after school.

Perhaps it was high time he started to take her clairvoyance seriously. Though, that in turn would mean – did she already know, what was going to happen in the end? Did she know how this story would turn out?

"We still don't have any leads on the ghost's motive, besides fulfilling that nebulous vow." Ayana diplomatically intervened, before Tezuka could start raising questions.

Yumiko heaved a sigh. "Not… exactly. We could play a guessing game, or…"

"It's okay, nee-san." Fuji nodded, pale-faced but smiling, "We should try it before somebody else dies."

Yumiko didn't look too happy, but couldn't deny her brother's reasoning. "I suppose so." she declared in defeat, before turning to the two Tezukas present.

Ayana frowned, already slightly weary of the coming suggestion, but Tezuka couldn't help feeling intrigued.

"This might strike you even more strange than the card reading." Yumiko announced looking in disdain at the cards stills strewn across the floor. Tezuka dimly wondered why she hadn't cleaned them up yet, but her voice drew his attention away.

"What we'll try next isn't … well, there's no common term for it. We'll try to get a look into the ghost's head – or rather into the head of said 'beloved'. It might be more like an emotional printout anyways."

Seeing two confused (or stoic) faces opposite her, she smiled slightly. "Sorry, but it's difficult to explain. Syusuke got possessed by that 'beloved' for a couple of moments. Basically, I will be trying to make him relive that situation and hold it. Then we can ask that 'beloved' questions, but not necessarily everything will be answered. We'll only get a reading of whatever knowledge was 'activated' during the period of possession – we can't access the rest."

Yumiko smiled. "Compare to learning a foreign language. There is such a thing as words you 'actively' know, meaning you can use them when speaking or writing, and on the other hand you have 'passive' vocabulary, words you'll recognize when reading something."

Ayana blinked, comprehension dawning on her like ice crawling over her body. "So basically." she began, while her son starred out into the darkness, lost in thoughts, "Once you were possessed, you can recall the spirit's thoughts. … would that also be possible for the ghost himself?"

"Certainly. If he possessed somebody …"

"There's also another possibility." Fuji suddenly spoke up, looking serious enough for Tezuka to frown.

His sister immediately glared at him. "And no way in hell we'll do that one."

"Even if it might prevent another death?"

Tezuka's eyes widened slightly. Judging by Yumiko's shiver, the hard glint in his friend's eye and their cryptic words there was a lot that hadn't been told yet. And – his heart stuttered at the thought – _another death_?

Had Yumiko foreseen anybody else die? Even if the ghost had claimed not be actively killing any further?

What…

"That's not certain yet." Yumiko replied icily, "I refuse to take unnecessary risks just for a mere possibility."

"Nee-san." Fuji sounded slightly exasperated, before coughing. His eyes were tearing up when he turned to Tezuka and Ayana.

"We can try to reconstruct a ghost's state of mind with an item out of his personal possession." he explained.

"What are the risks?" Ayana asked, looking at Yumiko.

"The risks are hard to define. It's quite a drain on all persons involved. Besides that, the side-effects depend on the spirit and the experience recalled." she shrugged callously and stated with a surprising air of detachment.

"I did it only once before, some ten years ago when I was much too young and hadn't had any idea of what I was doing. I ended up in the hospital with exhaustion and counselling sessions for the next two years. Syusuke was lucky he survived the ordeal at all."

When Tezuka glanced at his team mate in askance – he'd never heard of this before and dimly wondered if Eiji actually knew – but Fuji had his head bowed down.

"That's absolutely out of question then." Ayana firmly announced, pale after she'd heard the tale.

And then something in Tezuka's mind made the connection. His grandfather had mentioned a case, ten years ago, a gifted child's help – and how everything had come to a nebulous ending. If now …

It had to have been Fuji Yumiko. His grandfather wouldn't have known about her extraordinary talents otherwise. Had he, perhaps too, recognized Fuji, then? As some boy who had been involved in a case years ago? One that he had barely survived?

Maybe, just maybe he could approach his grandfather about that one, and with that resolved his mind turned back to the conversation at hand, with the ever-falling rain as their background music.

They decided – after Yumiko had only somewhat successfully convinced Ayana that the other method was harmless – to try it at once. Perhaps it was getting late, and though Tezuka had training next morning, he'd survive with a little less sleep than usually. And Fuji might have been sick, but he refused any further delay firmly.

He left the living room together with Ayana – her to freshen up, Fuji to change out of his pyjamas. Tezuka glanced moodily out of the window, before he noted Yumiko's reflection starring down at the wildly strewn cards on the floor.

The Fool grinned up at him, his card covering the one of the high priestess. The Devil a short distance away, next to Lovers. The Wheel of Fortune on its head.

"What are they saying?" .Tezuka questioned, astonishing himself with his audacity, yet Yumiko's sorrowful expression had piqued his curiosity.

She glanced at him wearily. "I'm not certain, actually. It's not good if it's saying what I think it is, but perhaps I'm jumping at shadows after that poor girl died."

He nodded, recalling the odd gifts that he'd never even tried to understand. Yet, contemplating them, he wondered how she was able to make sense of all that ambivalence in the end. Visions of the future, card readings and who knew what else she did – it was more than obscure to Tezuka. But there was one question he'd wanted answered.

"Forgive me if this is impolite." Tezuka asked, trying hard to keep his voice from quivering, "But I wondered…"

Yumiko's questioning gaze, filled with weariness, almost made him abandon his quest.

"Yes?" she prodded, eyes mysteriously hooded.

Tezuka swallowed. "Forgive me, but did you know… that this girl was going to die?"

She turned away, heaving a sigh – as if she had actually anticipated this very question. Gazing out into the rain-filled night, she said nothing. The wind's howl was the only noise to fill the silence for a few, oppressive moments, that seemed choking to Tezuka's frantic heart.

"Yes." she eventually replied, tearing her gaze away from the raindrops sliding down the windowpane, "I saw her death."

The weariness filling her eyes at that moment made Tezuka shudder. And when those world-wise brown orbs came to rest on him, he didn't dare to breath.

"I saw her death, Tezuka-kun, and I didn't do anything…" she chuckled humourlessly, "Say, did my brother ever tell you how our grandparents died?"

Wordlessly Tezuka shook his head, taken aback by the sudden change of subject – and yet thrilled beyond imagination. He sensed the connection, even if his logic failed at establishing it. But he could feel the puzzle pieces forming a picture in his mind, one that would leave him horrified and breathless once it became clear.

"Ah, well, in that case… To make a long story short, that was when Syusuke and I learned that knowing the future is essentially … useless. You know what is going to happen in all its gory details, but you can't do a thing. You can only wonder whether you should tell the people or not."

Tezuka froze, feeling completely speechless. He'd not… never … never imagined Fuji Yumiko's gift to be this horrifying. Whenever Fuji had mentioned tarot readings, visions and dreams, he simply put it aside as the typically esoteric talk young women seemed so fond of nowadays. He hadn't…

"Excuse me, Tezuka-kun, I am talking too much." she added, eyes closed into the classical Fuji smile. A mask hiding emotions, hiding the bitterness he had seen rearing its majestic head.

What must it feel like, he wondered, to see something happening – an accident, the death of a beloved – and to be powerless to prevent it? He imagined seeing his parents die in an accident… and eventually firmly chased the thought away. The intensity left his fingers trembling, even though he knew he hadn't half understood the true extend of what Yumiko lived through in those visions.

It would be enough to drive anybody insane.

* * *

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it and if you have suggestions or comments, please share them with me. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Ghost Hunt

* * *

**

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Further warnings: focussed entirely on Fuji and Tezuka

Author is no native English speaker (always glad to accept corrections)

Angst

* * *

AN: No review replies, but a double post ... いいですか？

Please enjoy!

* * *

**10. Ballade**

Before Tezuka could ponder Fuji Yumiko's gift any further, his mother returned to the living room, looking more tired than he'd seen her in a long time. He knew her well enough to tell that her resolve was waning. That child's death, the little horrid tale of a possession gone wrong, all was taking its toll on her.

"Is it really okay?" ,she asked when Fuji re-entered the living room, now dressed in a casual yukata, carrying several devices, that – as far as Tezuka knew – had never been mentioned along with 'séance' or 'exorcism'. His mother was worried, and maybe, just maybe, Tezuka contemplated, they ought to stop here and sleep before doing anything else. His friend's pallor was a sickly white, that rightfully roused Ayana's concern.

"Yes." Yumiko responded, passing her on her way to the kitchen. She, too, appeared exhausted and her eyes held a haunted quality that Tezuka hadn't previously recognized. And yet… perhaps it had always been there. Only his questioning her abilities had brought it to the forefront.

A soft clink drew his attention back to the glass table he sat in front of. Fuji had begun putting down that odd assortment of gadgets, thin wrists trembling slightly, but still moving oh so gracefully.

Eyeing the devices, Tezuka frowned. A sphygmomanometer, an electro-shocker, a set of pointy needles, some candles and last of the strange assortment was a water-gun. Ayana looked rather upset, and Tezuka, too, wondered what Yumiko expected to happen.

Just at that moment the person in question reappeared from the kitchen, bearing a tray with hot tea and sweets – to sooth everyone's nerves. They ought to be calm, Yumiko explained, otherwise chances were they might encounter some trouble. Nothing too bad, no, but hysteria just didn't mix well with the occult.

"Well, hopefully we won't be needing any of this." she declared, sounding a bit more energetic after having consumed some chocolate, "But just in case something happens I'll explain what you need to do."

Tezuka's mother nodded gratefully, even though she remained worried. He eyed his friend wearily, wondering if Fuji was truly fit and up to the task. If this were tennis practice, he'd long send his team mate to the nurse's office, if not straight home.

"First, during the session, Syusuke and I might not react to outer stimuli or notice anything going on, even if it's a large-scale event like an earthquake or a fire. The easiest way to call somebody back is to douse them with cold water."

She pointed at the water-gun. "Sometimes, though, that's not enough. In that case the needles come in. Aim for the pressure spots in the back of the neck, or – easier, stick one into the flesh between thumb and forefinger of the left hand."

That, at least, would be safe. Tezuka didn't understand very much about pressure points, beside the fact that he very much liked the occasional massage of said spots. Perhaps his mother knew more, but just in case, he'd rather stick a needle into somebody's hand than into somebody's neck.

"This one." she went over to the sphygmomanometer, "Will be taking Syusuke's blood pressure during the session. Should the value drop below the critical limit, try to stop the session at once. Wake me first, however, because if the value's below the line, you won't know just whom you're waking up."

Ayana shuddered and Tezuka tried to suppress all the gruesome images assaulting his mind. _Whom you're waking up_ – so there was a possibility of waking some blood-thirsty spirit? Swallowing thickly, he pushed the queasy feeling aside and listened on.

Yumiko's face grew even grimmer as she turned to the electro-shocker, not paying any attention to Ayana's aggrieved expression or Tezuka's frozen mask of suppressed horror.

"If worst comes to worst and one of us suffers a heart failure…" and judging by Yumiko's grave expression, she'd already seen this happen – though Tezuka didn't even want to know when or how - , "One of you should immediately alarm an ambulance. Afterwards please try to revive the person in question."

Ayana was as pale as a ghost herself and Tezuka wondered if they should really go through with their project. It sounded worse minute by minute. But both Fujis appeared determined and calm, and Tezuka decided to trust their judgement. Even if his logical mind was screaming bloody murder at the moment.

Before anybody else dies, he told himself, willing the dread cursing through his veins to subside.

"Very well then." Yumiko flashed a last smile at the seated group and Tezuka noted that his friend had already set everything up. A shiver ran down his spine as he gazed onto the solemn faces on the other side of the table.

"We shall begin."

Fuji Yumiko extinguished the light, leaving the living room lit by only a few candles. Tezuka had a hard time recognizing anything in the darkness, dancing flames created new perspectives, and only the rain remained steady.

"The seventh of November. At five o'clock in the afternoon. In the Tatsunori mansion, on the second floor."

It wasn't a statement, it was a razor-sharp command, cutting like a whip through the thick darkness smothering the room.

Yumiko's eyes were barely open, Tezuka held his breath and noted his mother sitting tensely beside him. Fuji's eyes had slipped closed, head slightly tilted forward. Honey-brown strand shaded his face, and the flickering candlelight cast strange expressions on too-white cheeks.

"Who was present?" Yumiko demanded suddenly. Swallowing, Tezuka forced himself to remain seated, eyes on the sphygmomanometer, telling him everything was normal, still, only Yumiko wasn't … was…

Was she herself of wasn't she? He had no idea, knew much too little to be able to tell – only he wouldn't dare cross this woman's path, not when ghosts obeyed her.

"Four persons." Fuji whispered, voice oddly hollow and distant, "Tezuka Kunimitsu, Fuji Syusuke, Tatsunori Ichirou and Fujiwara Amane."

Feeling her heart stop, Ayana starred wide-eyed at Yumiko. Tezuka drew in a sharp breath. Fujiwara Amane. The woman who'd possessed Fuji. She just had to be it; the last unknown person in the equation. That name they'd been missing – the key to solve this puzzle.

"Fujiwara Amane." Yumiko repeated firmly, "Are you willing to speak with us?"

Intrigued and horrified, Ayana leaned forward, mesmerized by the events unfolding in front of her eyes. Tezuka's logical mind still tried to hang onto denial, to seek out the logical explanations – but he wouldn't deny his fascination, nor the fact that he sat, waiting with baited breath.

For a spilt second too long silence ruled. Then Fuji chuckled, in the rich, honey alto voice Tezuka had only ever heard once before and his blood froze. His friend's head came up slowly, a malicious smile on an even paler face, eyes glittering, their usual clear blue replaced by a darker colour.

His mother gasped and Tezuka's eyes strayed to the sphygmomanometer, heart frantically praying that everything would be okay.

"Speaking to you? Audacious woman, how dare you address me as one of yourlike? The blood in my veins in second too none, though, I might just forgive you that slight and, knowing what hardship will await you, indulge you a little."

Her laughter was brittle, sensuous and so very, very arrogant. So absolutely unlike any gesture Fuji would ever make – and, truly, Tezuka found himself barely recognizing his team mate like this.

"Why did Tatsunori Ichirou kill all those people?" Yumiko asked directly.

"Oh, that?" she chuckled, a vibrant, careless sound, "Do you really care about those sixty-something persons? You should know better than to care for a peasant's fate. Or any other than your own, anyways."

Ayana gasped, almost recoiling in horror. This was … what kind of a person was that Fujiwara Amane? What kind of a life nurtured such opinions? What did…

Horrified and yet fascinated, Tezuka leaned forward, studying that face. The warm candle-light cast a healthy glow on what had been ghostly-white cheeks, enhanced high cheekbones, darkened eyelashes and created a picture of a stunning, sensuous female.

"Indulge me and answer the question." Yumiko insisted patiently. A pale sheen of sweat was covering her face and Tezuka found his eyes straying to the gadgets – hopefully, they'd be able to react in time, should the occasion arise. But another, worried glance to the sphygmomanometer told him, that readings were still normal.

He looked up just in time to see the Fujiwara Amane roll her eyes, as if annoyed by the question.

"Really, now, is it that important? He killed them to restore me, and now that he's done that and we've found a suiting vessel, it's only a question of time until we can be together again."

Biting her lip, Ayana couldn't help but stop all the thoughts assaulting her mind. What was that woman, what kind of a life had she lived? How could such a despicable creature exist? Wasn't … wasn't the value of a life universal? Transient?

And how, how in the world, could such a cold-hearted female come to grasp the concept of love? Or was Tatsunori Ichirou, the murderer, after all, only a victim himself? A man, doomed by his love to a ruthless, inscrutable, power-hungry female – a love that bound him even after death?

Tezuka noted with a frown that Fuji's blood pressure had dropped a good bit by now.

"He promised me eternity after all." her voice – if it was possible for such an arrogant and self-centred creature – grew wistful underneath all that smugness, "And than he went out and never came back, that idiot."

Ayana tensed up, wide-eyes fixed on Fujiwara Amane's silent form. This ought not to be possible, she ought not to wonder what happened there – and why, why, why did she feel a twinge of sympathy at the end of that last sentence?

That woman was responsible for the death of many people. One preschool girl, and almost her own son, too – and yet, she wondered what exactly had happened four hundred years ago.

There was a silence that Yumiko only broke with great care. It was thin ice they were treading on, now, she realized. Fujiwara Amane had shed her outer layer in a curiously careless manner – as if she didn't recognize the priceless information she currently handed out. As if her identity and that plan, she and Ichirou were currently acting out, was no secret at all…

Right now, she could either find all the answers they longed for – or everything could go to hell.

"Tatsunori Ichirou – were you married?"

"Yes, isn't that funny?" that cold voice sounded oddly split, torn between its usual arrogance and a more emotional tenor, "Our parents had that marriage arranged and we'd never met previously. Everybody only told me that married life was horrid, and that I should go and try to become the Shogun's concubine. Not a problem as I was considered the most beautiful woman in all of Japan."

Her laughter ebbed away, leaving Ayana mesmerized, torn between disgust and fascination. That righteous, unmindful woman concerned with only herself had left a bad impression, yet, now, hearing her speak of affairs of the heart, of love and life – she was just another female, once arrogance and pretension were stripped away.

"I guess…" her smile grew malicious once again, foreboding in the flickering candlelight, "You actually deserve the entire story. Well, needless to say and very much to our own surprise, my husband and me fell in love. People had called him a heartless demon, who had only money and no honour, but really, people are the worst."

The rain outside continued to fill the silence, raindrops sliding down the window panes, distorting reality. Such a dreary and cold November night – and the candles barely could hold the darkness at bay.

"Because of their rumours, various nobles approached me, offering me to become their concubine, or even their wife, promising to send assassins after Tatsunori. They told me they'd give me a happy life, and while those offers of luxury were quite tempting, I knew that none of them understood what I wanted like Tatsunori did."

She believed herself justified, Ayana realized with a shudder, that woman hated humanity in general because of rumours – and thus saw killing not as a crime, but a necessity. The idea alone made Ayana's blood run cold.

"Good soul he is, he had the most annoying once taken care of immediately. The rest never ever dared showing their face at court again."

"Then, however, I was approached by the Shogun himself. I could only deny by pointing out the possessiveness of Tatsunori… And barely six weeks later my husband had to leave on a punishment expedition to the south. But we managed to pull one on his highness – he might have killed us, but he'd never gotten what he wanted."

Something changed in the atmosphere, Tezuka realized. While she'd been lost in memories until now, Tezuka found those dark eyes slowly returning to the present. Fujiwara Amane's gaze settled itself onto her audience, cold and untouchable. Cold, calculating and a hint of insanity lingered in those eyes, when blood-red lips stretched themselves into a malevolent smile.

"Underneath the teahouse in the garden, there's a secret room. One built from stone, not wood. Tatsunori locked me in there, together with food and water enough to last half a year or more. But I never saw him again…"

She'd died a grizzly death, Ayana realized, taken aback and wondering how she'd managed to uphold her arrogance after spending a long time imprisoned underground. For that devotion and nothing else, only for that, this horrid woman called Fujiwara Amane deserved respect. But honestly for nothing else.

Had Tezuka Ayana been a lesser character she would have condemned her. Righteously claimed that she suffered only the fate she'd deserved, if not much less. Because, obviously, others had suffered worse because of her.

"What will happen once you are restored." Fuji Yumiko asked suddenly, voice heavy, as if over-tired. Tezuka glanced over at her and saw sweat shimmering on her brow, posture slumped in the candlelight.

"Oh…" a coy giggle, the pitch too high to be considered sane "That'll be wonderful! We'll finally get what we deserved all along! Immortality! Forever! Together! It will be only me and him, the two of us for the rest of eternity and beyond. There's nobody who'll ever hold sway about any of us again, we'll beyond reach for you mere mortals!"

The alien smile on Fuji's face turned into a dark smirk. "And no exorcist can banish us, our powers shall be unrivalled. We shall surpass even the demons."

Tezuka shivered, eyes widening in disbelief. His mother gasped, half-a-second away from protesting, from demanding to stop. Just stop. Those awful words, those horrid happening, this terrible reality – couldn't they just escape? Close their eyes and wait for everything to pass?

And then Tezuka's eyes dropped to the sphygmomanometer again. He frowned, seeing Fuji's pulse dangerously low and faint – still above critical level, yet.

Perhaps now was the time to intervene…

"So are you planning to stop me, foolish girl?" Fuji – or, rather Fujiwara Ayame – rose up gracefully, "Afraid that your pitiful powers won't measure up to me anymore? And that's not speaking of those two mere mortals…"

A condescending look cast into Tezuka's direction. "What do you intend to do when things happen? Bang on doors, scream your throat sore, just like you did the last time? You do know…"

And suddenly she was far too close, her face hovering a hair's breadth away from Tezuka's. He barely recognized his friend then, not daring to move.

"You do know what happens to fools who interfere?" she hissed. Tezuka desperately searched for a flash of blue, for some hidden understanding in those mercilessly dark eyes. But there was no trace of Fuji Syusuke to be found.

A gasp behind him, something hit the table and he only heard his mother's choked "Fuji-san!"

Something had snapped, something had given – a violent shift in the air, but he didn't know what was happening, couldn't see, couldn't even glance away from the dark, abysmal gaze that held him captive. He couldn't look past the slight body in front of him, had no clue what was happening – only that it left his blood pounding, himself dizzy and frightened, trying to hold on best he could.

"Fuji-san!" his mother called frantically, and flesh hit flesh. He feared the worst, but a mad scramble for their side was stopped by Fujiwara Ayame's impetuous voice.

"You are powerless here. You couldn't stop me back then, you won't stop me next time. Do the only intelligent thing and draw back. Go home, back to your pitiful life and forget about this! Greater things aren't meant for small minds like yours, brat."

Tezuka glared at her, defiance flashing in his eyes. Refused to acknowledge her words, to heed her warnings; ignoring her threats.

"Tezuka-kun!" Yumiko gasped weakly, pulling herself into a sitting position with the help of Ayana's arm. "Stop!"

Tezuka would not stop. He wouldn't back down, not to such a person – he wouldn't bow to such a vile creature as long as there was breath left in his lungs. Fujiwara Amane's expression twisted in cold rage.

And all of a sudden she moved. Cold metal glinted high in the air, a kitchen knife aimed precisely at his throat, Tezuka realized in morbid, frozen fascination. How did…?

"DIE!" Fujiwara Amane screeched.

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Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it and if you have suggestions or comments, please share them with me. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Ghost Hunt**

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Disclaimer: Not mine.

Further warnings: focussed entirely on Fuji and Tezuka

Author is no native English speaker (always glad to accept corrections)

Angst

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As for reviews:

Immortal Wifey: Thank you very much for loving it - Always makes me sit down and work harder at the next chapter.

Sango Hikari: Eeeto … sorry about that cliffhanger. I realize it was very, very mean to stop right there but it just… well… I couldn't resist the temptation. I hope you're happy with the continuation from that point on, though.

KrystalEpyon: Sankyuu, am glad to have been able to pull of that tarot card reading somewhat convincingly. And concerning 'Fujiwara', I picked that name for two reasons – one, you already guessed and the other can be found in any textbook concerning Japanese history. About the grandparents however … that's something that might become a one-shot, perhaps.

Nymphadora1982: Cliffhangers are evil, I totally agree. (whenever reading or writing one I have the tendencies to curl my toes, as my roommate most helpfully observed…)Though I must admit that won't stop me from employing them from time to time. And I hope you weren't waiting too long for this update. Anyways, enjoy!

Biont: Thank you very much. I try my best -. (And more or less completely redid this chapter after rereading it, so I hope not to disappoint…)

Yoshikochan: You flatter me too much, honestly, and it makes me happy to hear you actually liked the backstory as well as the séance. (it was kinda odd writing all that stuff outside in the sun). Anyways, Ayana and Yumiko were meant to be minor characters in the beginning, but somehow I feel as if there was something missing if I ignored them. Somehow I have come to like writing them … And well, I hope you like the continued angstiness of the next chapter.

2bloodly2love: Thank you very much for reviewing and I hope (that I spelled your penname right again – did you change it or is it only my pc messing up the formatting?) you like the next chapter!

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AN: After the cliffhanger … comes the kitsch. Angsty kitsch. (oh dear, holidays in warm countries do not become me… I always end up writing the angstiest scenes while lazing away in the sun…). Enough said, on with the fic!

Please enjoy!

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**11. Aria**

"DIE!" Fujiwara Amane screeched.

Suddenly the cold glint of metal blinded him, he saw a knife raised high above Fuji's head, descending rapidly, felt his heart stop, horror freezing him –

_Is this it? _Shot through Tezuka's head, his body mesmerized in disbelief, _Am I going to die?_

- and reflexes from life-long judo lessons kicked in, he grasped the arm, stopping the knife a hair's breath away from his neck. Panting he stared up into that enraged face, unable to reconcile it with the person he knew, incapable of grasping the reality of that sharp kitchen knife still aimed at his jugular.

His mother screamed in the background, panicked, torn, horrified beyond imagination. This just wasn't happening. The Fuji Tezuka knew would never ever raise a hand against anybody, much less a real weapon poised to kill. But those glinting eyes, flickering irritably in the unsteady candle light were fuelled by a cold rage that no feeling human being could ever show.

Swallowing thickly, Tezuka tightened his hold on the thin wrist, his own arms trembling as Fujiwara indignantly tried to force the knife down with everything Fuji's already weakened body possessed.

"Kunimitsu!" he heard his mother gasp somewhere in the twilight, but didn't dare to take his eyes of his friend's possessed form, didn't dare to even turn around and scream for help.

As if in slow motion Tezuka watched Fuji lift his left hand, a cold smile painted on lips darkened by candlelight. The gesture was so deliberate, sinfully sensuous - Fujiwara was giving him time to watch the slow transfer of the knife from one hand to another, giving him time to face his nearing death

"Kunimitsu!" Tezuka Ayana screeched, eyes wide in terror, seeing the knife pointed at her only child, that boy that even now wasn't screaming for help or crying. She'd gladly give her life to take his place, gladly pay whatever price necessary to save his life – if there was anything good or right in this world, if there was anything at all, she prayed, they wouldn't let her see her own child get killed in front of her eyes. Nothing could be that cruel, that couldn't happen, just couldn't…

"Hit him!" Yumiko's breathless voice barely carried over from where she was, half on the floor, leaning weakly against the armchair she'd previously resided in. Her face was whiter than the wall, eye's barely open, but focused and clenching her teeth against the darkness threatening to swallow her senses, she ruthlessly pushed on.

"Don't hold back! Hit him!"

Tezuka didn't consciously hear her words. Maybe somewhere deep down his brain registered them, just like it registered his mother's screaming, the frantic pounding of his own heart – but sheer terror numbed everything.

Fujiwara Amane smiled sickeningly sweet as the knife passed into her left hand. Cold eyes were glittering in malicious delight at Tezuka's horrified expression.

And Tezuka knew he'd be dead if he failed to act now. Gritting his teeth, expecting to feel cold metal penetrating his ribcage any minute now, he threw away caution, drew his fist back and punched Fuji in the stomach. Hard.

There was no pain.

The knife clattered on the ground, and Fuji slumped down beside him like a doll. Raindrops were hitting the window outside, the room was almost completely dark now, that most of the candles had gone out and, most curious of all, he was still alive. Tezuka took a deep breath, trying to calm his tattered nerves and adrenalin slowly drained from his body – but his heart kept racing.

Was it over? Had he … survived? Was tonight's ordeal really over for good?

Wearily he glanced over to the two crouched woman beside the couch table. Yumiko was on her knees, barely able to keep her eyes open, yet struggling to stand. His mother was whiter than the walls, eyes wide in disbelief and hands clutching Yumiko's shoulders. The terror and disbelief Tezuka had felt were still visible on her face, and realization, that everything was over was only slowly settling in.

And then, all of a sudden, she was on her feet, rushing over and drew Tezuka in an embrace tight enough to drive all air from his lungs. Numbly Tezuka let her, for the first time noticing the slight tremors cursing through his own body.

"Kunimitsu." Her voice was choked by suppressed tears and her arms tightened even further around her son's unmoving form as she recalled how close it had been. "Oh Kunimitsu, are you alright? Are you hurt? Are you…" she trailed off, gasping for breath, pressing her son closer to her chest, relishing in the sensation of feeling the warmth of his body.

Overwhelmed by his mother's sudden emotional outbreak, Tezuka numbly raised one arm to put around his mother's shoulders, his brain still desperately trying to piece everything together.

He dimly realized he was still holding his friend's small wrist, twisting the entire arm in the process. But Fuji wasn't protesting, still and lifeless on the ground.

An cold shudder ran down Tezuka's spine as some half-formed thought arose within the depth of his mind, but before that dreadful image could unfold, Fuji Yumiko's breathless, strained voice cut through the fog currently enveloping him.

"Excuse me, Tezuka-san…" Yumiko muttered, weakly pushing past the two of them, eyes fixed on her brother's motionless form.

Gasping where anybody else would already be in tears, she sank to her knees beside him. Heaving a wistful sigh, she gently reached out. Close up, Tezuka could see tears shining in her eyes, yet she denied herself the comfort of crying.

"Syusuke…" she mumbled, reaching out a trembling hand to feel her brother's neck. Tezuka Ayana's embrace loosened, as she, too, turned to look at the unfolding scene and bit her lip. She'd almost forgotten about poor Fuji-kun, and seeing him now, pale and unmoving, did little to assuage the guilt clawing at her heart.

"Is he…?" she asked, voice trembling with renewed worry.

Fuji Yumiko turned a tired smile at both Tezuka's, eyes lingering for a moment on the wrist that Tezuka was still holding fast.

"He should be okay." She mumbled, but didn't sound very convincing. Ayana's frown deepened and Tezuka wondered why Yumiko still appeared nervous. Granted, the pulse he felt underneath that delicate skin wasn't strong, but it was steady at least.

Yumiko smoothed her brother's hair back gently, before drawing back her hand and abruptly bringing it down with a slap.

"Syusuke, wake up!"

Tezuka's eyes widened in surprise and Ayana drew in a sharp breath. Gathering her wits she made to protest.

"Fuji-san, maybe…"

"Syusuke!" another slap and with a wistful smile Yumiko turned to her guests, "This is only to make sure the spirit has really gone."

She didn't like what she was doing either, Tezuka Ayana realized while her heart clenched, there were tears shining in Yumiko's eyes – all she wanted to do was to hug her brother but what she had to do was something entirely different.

"Syusuke!"

And this time it worked. Lashes fluttered, Fuji groaned and turned his head, before opening his eyes. They were glazed from fever and exhaustion, but Tezuka felt relieved at seeing their deep blue again.

Yumiko actually sank back with a sigh and for a moment it seemed she would just faint there and then, but she remained upright.

"Nee-san…" Fuji whispered, voice hoarse, "Tez…"

A violent coughing fit swallowed the rest of Tezuka's name. When it eventually let up, three people watched him anxiously. He could only lean back, body completely limp from exhaustion and try to give them a reassuring smile…

Then his eyes fluttered shut and he slumped over, unconscious once more.

Ayana instinctively reached out and put a hand on his forehead. Her eyes widened suddenly, much to Tezuka's concern, and with a grave expression she turned to Yumiko.

"He's burning up!"

Fuji Yumiko, looking dead herself, mustered a faint smile that was meant to be reassuring. "It should be okay, though. Only after effects from the séance… He'll be fine …"

"Shouldn't we call a doctor?" Ayana asked in disbelief. Had this been Kunimitsu lying on the floor, had this been her own child she would have long since… But Fuji-kun wasn't her child and Yumiko wasn't even his mother, but worst of all, she seemed to have experience with situations as this.

Tezuka glanced over to his team mate's pale, barely breathing form. He was still holding onto his wrist and could feel the pulse's faint beating. The heat emitting from flushed skin and the soft shudders that ran through that small body ever so often.

His mother was right - they ought to call an ambulance.

"It's not so bad." Yumiko said, affectionately patting her brother's hair, "He's always like this afterwards. The fever should go down in an hour or two, so please don't worry."

'Should go down' Tezuka repeated to himself, 'But will it, though?" He had a feeling that all those séances Yumiko talked about had been performed when Fuji had been healthy – not additionally sick with a cold that seemed to get worse by the hour.

With a weary sigh, his still very much upset mother leaned back and acquiesced. Tezuka had to admire her for her capacity of holding up that well, even though her world-view had just been torn into smaller pieces.

"Fuji-san… you must be very tired yourself."

Which was perhaps the understatement of the century, but politeness required Ayana to remain indirect. Yumiko looked like the living dead, face white and the fact, that she remained kneeling spoke for itself.

"Please let my son and me stay for a while and tidy up for you." Ayana gestured to the teacups and the various articles strewn over the room.

"Aa, thank you very much but…"

Ayana firmly interrupted the meekly voiced protest. "No, please, let us help. I feel awful for you and your brother putting so much effort into an affair that doesn't even directly concern you, so let me try to repay you even with such a small gesture."

It felt strange, disjointed even, to listen to that formal conversation after everything that had taken place, Tezuka thought. Yet on the other hand – it brought a feeling of normality and after tonight, after all these surreal, dreadful events, normality brought safety.

"Well…" Yumiko said, smiling, and everybody present knew Ayana had won that one, "In that case… I can't refuse."

With a weak smile that was gaining resolution fast, Ayana turned to her son. "Kunimitsu, could you please take Fuji-kun to his room and make sure he is comfortable? I'll call you when everything's done."

Usually Tezuka might have offered to help his mother with tidying up, but for once he simply nodded, barely even noticing Yumiko's grateful smile, before bending down to pick his team mate up.

Fuji felt a lot lighter without his winter coat, Tezuka noted, maybe even a bit too light – but well, according to Inui Fuji had always been on the thin side, and with his cold and all the additional stress now, he just might have lost a little too much weight. Hopefully it wasn't something some pieces of wasabi sushi wouldn't cure …

But honestly, Tezuka wondered how long Fuji would be able to make up for what he lacked in strength with technical precision on the court. No matter how much Fuji simply tried to smile it all away, there was no denying that he was smaller and more delicately build than most others their age. And Kawamura had already taken Tezuka aside and requested not be put into the same block as Fuji for the next ranking matches …

At the moment however, the persisting cold appeared more worrisome to Tezuka, as he laid his charge down and frowned when Fuji kept coughing, even in sleep. Not the wet, body-wrecking coughs, but small and very unhealthy-sounding ones.

Drawing up the blankets around his friend, making sure he was warm and comfortable felt like a tiny, helpless gesture – more a symbolic move than anything that would truly help Fuji now. But, biting his lip, Tezuka had to admit defeat here. He knew far too little to do anymore for his friend, so with a sigh he turned away, intending to fetch a cup of tea from downstairs.

A soft groan and fluttering eyelashes made Tezuka halt in his retreat. Blue eyes barely managed to focus on his and Tezuka wondered if Fuji actually recognized him, or if the fever had rendered him delirious.

"Te…tezuka…."

Fuji blinked, fighting of the darkness creeping back from the edges of his vision. Everything was blurry, numb and felt strangely detached, as if he was somewhere deep underneath some watery surface, starring up at the events taking place high above.

"A… are you…?"

Another coughing fit racked the slight frame, making Tezuka clench his fists, damning his helplessness.

And then something red splattered on the blue patterned blanket. Immediately Tezuka found himself back at Fuji's side, wide-eyed and numb with sheer horror, one arm flung around Fuji's trembling shoulders, the other reaching for a nearby glass of water.

"Fuji!" he exclaimed, terrified, as Fuji wiped wearily at his bloodstained lips, getting the cotton of his sleeve soaked. There was no indication from his movements that anything was wrong, even more wrong than before – only that tiny mechanical gesture, blue eyes not even widening slightly at the sight of blood…

Heart beating rapidly and with cold sweat beading his brow once again, Tezuka felt afraid to let go of his friend, but the blood…

… this was beyond mere exhaustion. Fuji needed to go to a hospital. Now.

"Sorry…" Fuji muttered meekly, as if sensing the panic crawling through Tezuka's veins, and tried to hold back further, horridly wet coughs. The fact alone that there was blood staining his hands sent icy chills down Tezuka's spine.

"Don't be." he muttered, voice flat, "Where's your mobile?"

"Eh?" Fuji managed to open his eyes to glance astonished at Tezuka for a moment, before a small, tired but honest smile spread on his face, "Whom do you … do you want to call at this time, buchou?" he gasped, "Some girlfriend I …" coughing ensued once more, leaving Fuji to finish his jovial phrase in a hoarse whisper, "… don't know about?"

'Idiot.' thought Tezuka, but it was suffused with heart-wrenching affection. To see Fuji joking, now, even though he was coughing up blood, unable to even sit upright on his own…

Things weren't meant to happen like this, he realized. Somebody as mercurial and strong as Fuji wasn't ought to be lying down here, sick and weak – only because of some ghost.

"Fuji…" Tezuka gave his team mate a small shake as he noticed him slipping away once again, "Hold on! I'm going to call an ambulance! Stay awake until…"

And Fuji chuckled. "Ne, Tezuka, I … I haven't hit my head nor … am I in any kind of mortal danger."

"You're coughing up blood!"

"It's not that bad."

"Fuji!"

"Te…" Coughing again, and Tezuka rose, ready to run downstairs and get help immediately. Fuji hid his face in tissue that slowly became red, but reached out a trembling hand for Tezuka's sleeve.

The gentle pressure would have never deterred him in terms of strength – but the gesture stopped Tezuka cold.

"Sorry … you had to see that." Fuji gasped. "It's just a … a side-effect from being possessed … nothing serious. Honestly … I've had worse."

Tezuka shuddered to think of what 'worse' implicated. He wondered if he'd ever be able to call on Fuji's bad form on the courts again without having to question the reasons for the tensai's bad performance- had there been a session the previous night, had…

He closed his eyes, frowning how many times he had already confronted Fuji about 'playing around' or 'not playing up to standard', when Fuji perhaps hadn't been able to help it.

Well, no crying over spilt milk.

"Ne, Tezuka … I don't think I'm going … to make practice tomorrow…" Fuji muttered, eyelids dropping and breaths growing shallow.

"Of course not." Tezuka insisted harshly, before slumping down exhausted. The panic that had frozen his blood before receded slowly, leaving him only more tired and upset. There were so many thoughts rushing through his head, so many things to consider – he felt like he could drop dead himself, right here. Too much had happened tonight, too much revealed – he felt he ought to sit down and consider everything rationally, go over it, pick up the pieces and put them together, now, that he had answers, but something within himself rebelled. He didn't want to think about everything now, he wanted to lie down and sleep. He wanted this horror show to be over, to wake up and go to tennis practice tomorrow and find Fuji waiting for him with a smile, healthy and whole. Not that fragile doll in his arms with lips reddened by blood.

Glancing at his charge, he still felt compelled to call a doctor or do anything else to help him… but Fuji's eyes, glazed as they were, were calm and free of desperation, telling him to trust his judgement and stop worrying.

"Are you okay? Honestly?" Tezuka asked, painfully aware of each laboured breath his friend drew.

Fuji smiled tiredly. "Yes… A bit exhausted though…"

Settling the smaller frame gently back against the pillows, Tezuka felt strangely reluctant to let go. He didn't want to loose that warmth, to loose whatever proof he had that Fuji was here and alive.

Perhaps this was how his mother had felt downstairs, before, when she'd suddenly drawn him into that bone-crushing hug. Perhaps those strange, heart-wrenching emotions were…

Drawing a sigh and deciding that it must be well past his own bed-time for his thoughts move in circles like this, Tezuka detached himself and stood. Fuji, it seemed, had already gone back to sleep – the exhaustion must have been overwhelming.

"Sleep well." Tezuka whispered, willing a dozen of other good wishes for his friend along with those two words, before he turned to leave.

A soft, barely audible voice caught his attention, when he made to shut the door behind him.

Fuji appeared asleep and he wasn't sure if he was actually meant to hear those words that fell from Fuji's lips.

"Ne, Kunimitsu… thank you… thank you for everything."

* * *

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it and if you have suggestions or comments, please share them with me. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Ghost Hunt**

* * *

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Further warnings: focussed entirely on Fuji and Tezuka

Author is no native English speaker (always glad to accept corrections)

Angst

As for reviews:

KrystalEpyon: Concerning Fujiwara I had no special person in mind. (your knowledge amazes me, though). The most powerful clan in Heian period was the Fujiwara family and, well, Amane was in dire need of some illustrious ancestry… - However, the Kanji for 'Fujiwara' 藤原 and Fuji' 不二 differ vastly...

Speadee: About the series – at times I wish there was a little more about the characters' backgrounds instead of far too drawn out tennis matches. But I suppose, that's a rather fangirlish complaint, though… sigh. And acupuncture… honestly, I understand very, very little of it, so most of what I wrote was more of an (more or less) educated guess. Am glad to not have screwed it up completely -;

Sango Hikari: Your intuition, once more, is astonishingly correct. While this chapter is more or less tame, things don't improve. And my obsession with cliffies doesn't either… ehehe, still, I hope you'll enjoy this.

Yoshikochan: … if I was capable of drawing, I might long ago have joined the dj scene. As I am not, I try my very best to use words instead of pictures. - Anyways, where the angst comes in, words are almost better…

Immortal Wifey: Always glad to please the readers. - Hope you had a good Halloween and will find the next chapter entertaining, too.

Please enjoy!

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**12. Menuetto**

By the time Tezuka had to get up on Saturday morning, he was far too tired to contemplate the events of last night. It was on autopilot he survived the routines and only sitting down at the table forced him to clear his head.

Silence hung heavily over the well-heated room, the clatter of dishware the only noise. Soothingly normal, unlike his mother's very pale face and the concerned expression on his father's face.

A drowned girl, a séance gone wrong, a knife aimed at his throat, Fuji coughing up blood – with a shudder Tezuka tried to block all those gruesome memories from his mind. Sitting at the breakfast table with his family, enjoying a good meal in tranquillity, the horrors of last night seemed incredibly far away. Almost, as if they only existed in his imagination.

Shuddering, he put down his chopsticks a little less graceful than usual.

"Are you alright?" Tezuka Kuniharu asked suddenly, breaking the stifling cocoon of make-belief. He'd heard what had happened from his wife, and almost found himself incapable of understanding. A séance? What was the world coming to?

But even his father, his always rational and level-headed father had listened and believed every word without a doubt. And when Tezuka Kunikazu was convinced, Tezuka Kuniharu ought not to ask anymore questions.

He hadn't wanted to, anyways, once his wife had finished her tale. Instead he'd taken a deep breath, convinced himself, that no matter how twisted and cruel the ghost, work would be waiting tomorrow, the world would go on and they'd be getting rid of the ghost soon now. And then he'd snuck of and stolen a glance at his son's peacefully sleeping face, only to reassure his unsettled heart.

Because, after all, there were no words do describe the relief he felt at seeing his son blink in surprise at the unexpected question from the other side of the breakfast table. If he'd come to find that chair empty…

"I'm alright, yes." Tezuka Kunimitsu replied.

Ayana took in faded scratches on his cheek, looked at stormy, grey skies and leafless trees outside, and sighed. "You look tired. Do you want to stay home?"

"It's okay." Tezuka answered, shaking his head. "It's only tennis practice today. I'll be home early."

And he really wanted to. But it was not to be.

* * *

Huddled into warm clothes he made his way to the tennis courts half an hour later, wondering dimly whether the weather would hold or if there would be snow soon – maybe already tonight, if temperatures kept dropping like this.

The courts were sparsely populated this early, and Eiji kept muttering about awful training conditions. Autumn had finally given way to winter and they were all feeling the cold through their Jerseys. There was no rain, though, yet the sky remained overcast with thick, grey clouds being blown about by an icy wind. Eiji brought his scarf out in the beginning, but put it aside after running the first twenty laps. Oishi looked a bit paler than usual and Tezuka told him to take care during a private moment.

When Oishi had inquired about Fuji and Eiji had joined the conversation, Tezuka's fists clenched. Trying his best to keep a straight face he told them that Fuji was down with a cold. Nothing to worry about, no, only the weather, and yes, Oishi was right, Fuji had always been a bit sensitive…

But he couldn't stop the images assaulting his mind. Couldn't repress the memories rising up, the knife, the possession and how limp Fuji's body had been in his arms.

Sending a silent prayer to whomever listening, Tezuka wished for his own words to come true. That Fuji was truly only down with a cold – nothing more serious… Nothing that left bloodstains on papery white hands.

He should have been more insistent yesterday, Tezuka realized as Oishi and Eiji wandered off in order to join Inui and Kaidou for a practice game. Regardless of whatever Fuji had told him, he had been coughing up blood – they ought to have called a doctor at least. It must have been exhaustion gnawing at his resolve that had made him take Fuji's word on the matter – but today, looking out on wind-swept courts, he had to admit that he was still worried.

Hopefully Fuji had gone to see a doctor today. Hopefully he wouldn't be that deathly pale the next time they met, or look that utterly fragile. But honestly, Tezuka asked himself, what were the chances that Fuji had actually gone and consulted with a certified physician? Most probably he was trying to wait it out.

Tezuka turned his attention back to the courts, where Eiji kept muttering about how it was far too cold to practice, while Oishi's return volley was blown off course by sudden gust of wind that left all occupants shivering.

Only Inui failed to complain about the cold, while Kaidou and Momoshirou had successfully been calling themselves names for long enough that Tezuka had a feeling next they'd dare each other to come to practice in shorts and t-shirt.

Well, at least that quarrelling kept them warm, Tezuka thought. And Kawamura had his own built-in heating system.

Although the regulars were holding up quite well, the non-regulars had a hard time standing the cold. Tezuka had already observed that Arai played the best in warm and sunny weather – cold November days weren't meant for him. And he couldn't even comment on the freshmen…

Although Echizen hit his way through all of his practice matches without a complain, or even blinking – looking asleep on his feet - and disappeared from the courts the minute he could, presumably to return directly to his bed.

In the end, Tezuka was glad when he was able to call it a day at 12.30 and dismiss the club. Watching Eiji and Oishi leaving together, chatting amiably, suddenly made him all the more notice the lack of a person at his side. Usually Fuji would be there, offering commentary without expecting Tezuka to respond – which, when he looked at it right now, seemed rather pitiful on his part.

So, maybe he'd just make a little detour over to Fuji's house. Say hello to his friend, surprise him by telling him what had happened at practice – because he hadn't been quite able to shake the image of Fuji's hunched form, coughing up blood.

* * *

Fuji Syusuke had little idea of the actual time, besides that he had already woken several times to find twilight outside. He supposed it ought to be day, but with the stormy grey clouds overhead it was hard to tell. It could have been dawn, it could have been dust, with the way his eyesight kept blurring it was difficult to make out the numbers on the digital clock at his bedside.

At least, he thought to himself, fixing his eyes on the clouds racing overhead, it wasn't raining.

Which did little for his pounding head or his stuffed sinuses. When he sat up, the world spun like crazy for several seconds and he was thankful he hadn't eaten a thing since – well, he was too dizzy to recall that right now, but anyways – last time, so there was nothing he could throw up.

He had a feeling he would have made more than one trip to the restroom otherwise – that is, if he actually managed to make his way there. His knees felt like pudding, weak, wobbly and utterly incapable of bearing even his own weight.

Really, the others were lucky, being able to practice tennis right now. Even if the weather was horrid, being out there seemed vastly preferable over his current occupation. Reading was out of question, the letters just kept blurring in front of his eyes, music made his head ache and if he tried to do schoolwork now, he'd only get blood on the textbooks in the end.

The air in here was getting stuffy, too.

After he had made his way to the window he decided he'd just risk the trek downstairs.

Yumiko would have his head if she returned to find him out of bed, but Yumiko wouldn't return until later in the evening.

And he definitely preferred the wide-screen TV downstairs to his own, smaller version. Maybe he'd watch some DVDs until he fell asleep – it would at least take his mind of the constriction choking his lungs at every breath he drew. Or the pain coughing caused…

A cup of tea along the way wouldn't be too bad either…

* * *

"Thank you very much, Kawamura-san." Tezuka said, bowing deeply.

It was past one o'clock right now and Tezuka would be hard-pressed to deny feeling hungry. He could be sitting at home, eating lunch with his family right now, but guilt and concern for Fuji's condition had won out in the end.

If he'd done something more yesterday evening. If, maybe, previously, he'd been more careful, if he'd been more attentive, Fuji might not have ended up like this. Ill to the point that made Tezuka wonder just how long it would take his friend to recover from this.

So Tezuka had called his mother and told her he'd be late, he'd go to Fuji's first and his mother had understood at once.

'That's a good idea.' she'd told him and he'd heard her smile in through the phone. 'But you must be hungry. Why don't you grab some lunch on the way? And maybe something for Fuji-kun, too.'

Tezuka had shuddered at that, remembering how thin his friend's wrist had felt last night. But, he decided, this at least was something where he could help.

"Thank you." Tezuka repeated.

Kawamura Takahashi blushed, while his father laughed heartily in the background. "It's nothing, buchou."

Tezuka didn't say anymore, but he felt honestly grateful for Kawamura's effort. The 'burning player' had agreed to Tezuka's request the moment the question had left his mouth, very worried about Fuji's wellbeing – and had, until now, never stopped asking whether there wasn't anything else Fuji would be happy about.

But Tezuka couldn't think about anything else in terms of food, thus accepted the carton of wasabi rolls, that Kawamura had insisted were on the house.

"Tell Fujiko-chan to get well soon." ,Kawamura said, waving Tezuka good-bye, and Seigaku's captain wondered what Fuji had done for the other regular to inspire such loyalty.

It was curious, really, that Fuji with his veiled intentions and ambiguous statements had found so many friends – and not only friends in name, at that. Tezuka had no doubt Kawamura, as well as Eiji, would step up the moment somebody tried to mess with their smaller friend.

And he himself would too, Tezuka realized, even if somebody could accuse him of playing favourites here. His feet stopped in front of a glassy display, reflecting the storm clouds in the sky.

So what did that mean, now, he wondered, absentmindedly starring into a flower shop's window, he was another good friend of Fuji's? Up on par with Eiji and Kawamura?

But, honestly, hadn't they already been that close before? he wondered, aimlessly wandering down the street.

Um…

"Excuse me, sir, may I help you?"

Tezuka looked up at a smiling girl wearing a green apron that sported a smiling sunflower in surprise. An unexpected dot of colour – dull as they might appear in the poor outside light – in the grey day.

"Are you looking for something special?" she continued, happily oblivious to the question that had just spooked Tezuka's mind,

"A bouquet for your mother perhaps? A thank-you arrangement? Or something for your girlfriend?"

"Yes." ,Tezuka replied, eventually, having stopped listening after the 'something special' part, and didn't really notice the girl's widened eyes (as a matter of fact, he had also failed at realizing that this girl was in fact a fellow Seigaku third-year whose uncle owned the shop) and flushed face.

"What would you like then? Roses, perhaps, are classical – or maybe an arrangement of roses with other flowers to…"

"A cactus." Tezuka said, shocking her into silence.

"Well…" she said after a couple of minutes, "We do have some pretty exemplars – if you'd like to come in and take a look?"

Ten minutes later Tezuka emerged with a cactus that ought to sport pretty pink flowers if cared for properly, questioning his own sanity and leaving the girl wondering if there was anybody in school whose favourite flowers were cacti…

With a smile she shut the door, barring cold and icy air from entry, though the day all of a sudden appeared less bleak than it had. Love could brighten up even the dullest days, she contemplated. And obviously melt the heart of the most stoic person at school, too.

She still didn't know whose favourite 'flowers' were cacti, though. Well, she'd just ask Eiji next Monday, he always knew everything about everybody.

* * *

The clouds outside looked more like snow than like rain, Fuji thought, glancing out of the kitchen window. Trees were bowing in the wind, the leafless branches twisting and bending. Odd, left-over brown and reddish leaves flew through empty streets, greenery had been reduced to over-watered grass, brown and muddy and cold.

Coughing, he hugged his yukata closer to himself, glad to be able to spend the day inside and pitying the other people who had to go out and work. Maybe, he contemplated, wistfully glancing up at storm clouds overhead, the coming frost would chase away this dreary weather. Bathed in the crystal clear light of a December sun, the world outside wouldn't be looking half as forlorn and barren.

Maybe he would stop feeling so cold.

With a sigh Fuji leaned closer to the kitchen stove, trying to absorb the warmth emitted, even though his skin was already covered in a thin layer of sweat, his insides remained frozen. An unexpected coughing fit sent him to his knees, one hand clutching desperately on the counter, the other one pressed firmly in front of his mouth.

The world in front of his eyes was spinning, blurring, twisting itself, but he only dimly was aware of the whirring colours and distorted noises – the raw burning in his chest left no room for consideration. Gasping for breath he weakly leaned back, letting his head knock against the stove. Closing his eyes, he tried to concentrate on the dull pain the knock sent ringing through his skull, trying to forget about the constriction of his lungs, about the salty taste filling his mouth, the liquid sticking to his fingers…

How he wished to be somewhere else right now. To be far, far away from all this. To close his eyes and wake up from this nightmare; open his eyes to a bright blue sky and the feeling of warm sunrays on his skin.

But when Fuji opened his eyes again, all he saw were polished floor tiles and an empty room. The wind could be heard howling outside, but besides that there was only silence. And his own ragged breathing that sounded disgustingly loud.

Drawing himself up wearily, he shuffled over to the sink, to wash away the blood staining his hands and lips – he'd never forget Tezuka's face last night. The way that stoic mask had betrayed shock and concern… Fuji couldn't help but smile at the memory.

His heart hadn't felt so cold, last night. Oh, perhaps he'd been completely worn out by the possession, exhausted beyond reason, but hadn't been frozen on the inside. In pain, maybe, but content. Happy, even. Happy, that somebody had been there to hold his hand, to stay by his side until he fell asleep.

And that genuine concern in Tezuka's eyes… he'd felt so wonderfully warm back then, touched by that unusual display of emotion to the point of tears. To feel loved and appreciated, even when he wasn't smiling; to let go, fall and be caught…

A hiss brought him back to reality and with a hoarse chuckle Fuji turned to the boiling water. His mind was drifting, he realized, painting beautiful, gold-tinted pictures, even when the reality looked so bleak and cold. Tezuka most certainly hadn't quite realized how much his small gesture last night had meant to Fuji; he'd certainly claim to only have done his duty as a friend.

Still, it was a memory Fuji would cherish.

He'd just finished preparing his tea, when the doorbell rang. In annoyance, Fuji contemplated pretending nobody was home and waiting until whoever that was left again. But the air in the kitchen wasn't getting any warmer while standing around motionless and he began feeling light-headed again.

It would be best to open the door and send whoever it was away, or accept the delivery, or just do whatever and then go straight back to the couch and lay down…

The world was darkening around the corners, as Fuji struggled over the door. Something wasn't right, his mind kept screaming, but everything was spinning, his nerves exploding. He was sweating, hot, burning even, but then shivering violently from the ice cold air filling the corridor.

Wrenching the door open with cold sweat covering his brow, Fuji tried to catch his breath. Hanging onto the doorframe with trembling fingers, an icy gust of wind tore at him suddenly and send his nerve ends screaming.

Struggling to remain conscious Fuji lifted his eyes.

And met a smirk, colder than the November wind. Life had fled the scenery, grey against grey in a blur of ever-shifting silhouettes, one shape more surreal than the next; branches like skeletal fingers, reaching from beneath; the dead reaching up to drag the living underneath. Deep, dark eyes twinkled with malicious mirth - as a nightmarishly soft voice announced.

"_The time has come."_

And Fuji knew no more.

* * *

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it and if you have suggestions or comments, please share them with me. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Ghost Hunt**

* * *

Disclaimer: Not mine. 

Further warnings: focussed entirely on Fuji and Tezuka

Author is no native English speaker (always glad to accept corrections)

Angst

* * *

As for reviews:

Kougragrowl611: I can see how it would be interesting to see everyone from Seigaku put into these kind of situations, but to be entirely honest in that case the fic might have ended up at at least three time the original length. So bear with me, I might not include everybody, but I'll be able to actually finish this one. .;

Beanstalk1019: Thank you, thank you, thank you. Not only for the compliments (melt), but also for pointing out the mistakes (truly, very, very helpful, because 'review mirror' is rather embarrassing after all) – I hope to upload a correct version sometime in the future. Anyways I am glad you liked everything so far and do hope you will also like the rest.-

Raitonraikiri: Uh, less frightening? Ano, being the writer I have a very hard time judging how scary this story is, but let me reassure you… things won't turn out too bad. -

StarDancer1234: I totally agree. Angst is just such a lovely genre… allows you to make characters act ooc for a reason. -

Speadee: Thanks for the review -. One thing, though… it was not Tezuka at the door. (sorry if that was unclear, I thought the entire 'It's time' said enough about the visitor's identity).

Koshi Sekisen: bows back Ghost-stories all the way, ne? Actually I also like them because they allow for unusual situations and reactions that would under 'normal' circumstances be rather ooc. And concerning the 'real' pot-verse… well, I more or less thought, if they've got things like muga, can play with their eyes closed – why not add some ghosts to spice things up a little.

Ina: - Thank you for reviewing. I hope you'll like the rest of the story too.

Sango Hikari: Very, very glad to know the chapter actually came out the way I wanted it to. And thanks for pointing out that name mistake (though I must admit, it was somewhat more of a Freudian slip-up…)

Nymphadora1982: Cliffhangers are just… well, something everybody is tempted to do while writing, and I usually tend to give into that. As for the relationship – they'll get to this part, even though the rest of the world might get it earlier than they do in the end -

Burhur: The 'Magician' symbolizes 'strength, confidence' and a whole lot of other rather positive stuff. Can also be read as somebody who manages to turn weaknesses into strength and is able to control a situation with ease.

Fantasize.dream: Hope very much I can keep up the suspense in the next chapter. Anyways, for Fuji… things may just be looking a little better.

* * *

AN: Wow… I've got to say, all those reviews left me pretty much speechless (and smiling like a maniac, but that aside). I can only say you all make me very, very happy. And work harder than before. This chapter is now twice its original length, has another scene included and hopefully I'll be posting chapter 14 before next weekend. 

Anyways, please enjoy!

* * *

**13. Serenade**

It was a sharp, cold wind tearing at Tezuka's coat when he rounded the corner to the street Fuji lived in. With a shudder he cast a doubtful glance at the stormy sky above, wondering absentmindedly whether the heavy grey clouds would open up as soon as the wind died down. Was there going to be a storm? Perhaps even the first snow storm of the year?

Snow would be nice, he thought idly, only dimly aware of the cold creeping through his coat. Snow always brought a sense of tranquillity. And he'd been feeling rather restless, worn-out even, lately.

Snow meant time to sit inside, time to enjoy a cup of good tea. Time to think. To order his mind. Maybe to cast away all those frightening ideas the last two days had brought him, to re-establish his inner balance.

Well, Tezuka thought, looking at the ever-green growing on man-high garden walls to his left, perhaps Fuji wouldn't mind if he stayed over for a cup of tea. Because there were a lot of things Tezuka honestly wanted to talk about, a lot of questions he wished to have answered– but only if Fuji was healthy enough.

Subconsciously biting his lip, Tezuka once again saw the memory of last night flashing in front of his eyes. Blood on blue cotton… His heart clenched.

If there was anything he could do to help, he'd gladly do it. If there was anything…

Then again, this sudden sense of desperation, the intensity of this desire was a little strange, Tezuka thought, eyes tracing the path of leafless branches traces to the grey above. Frightening, even if he didn't feel scared.

Yet it was with gentle bewilderment that he acknowledged this longing to make sure Fuji was alright, to reach out and hold him. Hold him close to make sure he wouldn't slip away…

Was that friendship? Was that guilt? Or was it something far, far more enormous?

Looking at the cactus and the wasabi sushi, well-wrapped and safely stored in their paper bags, Tezuka couldn't help but wonder at himself. Wasn't this the Fuji equivalent of roses and chocolates?

Maybe so, but Tezuka could see Oishi smiling gently, shaking his head and saying this was just another way of expressing 'I care'. And friends do care for each other, don't they?

But if this was friendship, what had been between him and Fuji before?

'It's a crush! It's a crush!' would most certainly be an excitedly laughing Kikumaru's comment on Tezuka's dilemma, while Inui would rattle of the statistical possibilities before launching into a lengthy explanation on the possible involvement of Tezuka's overly strong sense of responsibility and the resulting impression of guilt.

Shaking his head to chase away all those alien thoughts, he crossed the front yard, climbed the three stairs leading to the door and rang the doorbell.

And waited, watching leafless trees bend and shudder in the wind, their vivid brown bleached a colourless black by grey clouds above.

No sound emerged from inside the house, no movement within and Tezuka wondered whether Fuji was asleep or whether he had to go to a hospital, in spite of last night's reassurances. He really hoped his friend's condition hadn't worsened overnight, or anything else…

The driveway was empty, dead leaves blown past by a rough gust of wind the only thing moving. It was getting colder by minute, it seemed, and no sign of life from the inside.

What if… ?

Heartbeat quickening, yet forcing himself to remain calm, Tezuka rang again, longer this time, more urgently. He could hear a car passing in the distance, the odd, dull roar of midday traffic somewhere far away, but the silence remained suffocating.

Nothing happened.

Maybe they had gone to see a doctor, maybe they had gone to a hospital, hell, maybe they'd gone out to buy groceries. Maybe Yumiko was still at university and Fuji was resting. Maybe everything was alright.

But his heart was pounding loudly, and his hands felt frozen when amid the howling wind and fluttering dead leaves Tezuka reached for the doorknob.

And the door slowly swung open.

Tezuka's heart faltered. Why hadn't the door been locked? Why was…

Wide-eyed, hands trembling with barely suppressed tension, he looked into the dark corridor, finding only open doors and no sign of movement. Nothing in disarray, nothing disturbed – just abandoned. For a split second, the mansion's entrance room flashed in front of Tezuka's eye, overlapping dangerously with this corridor.

The tasteful décor, the armchairs and paintings, this soulless and lost sensation…

And then it was gone, Tezuka found himself standing on the front step again, starring dazedly into a half-dark corridor. Fuji was not here, an odd voice in his head whispered. Not here, not here, not here.

A rustle outside, caused by a strong gust of wind, and Tezuka suddenly sensed movement at his feet. His head spun, yet he turned to look down, ignoring the sense of disorientation blurring his perception.

A black leaf fluttered by. Past his black loafers, out of the door to join the other wildly dancing leaves.

… but it had been no leaf.

With his breath caught Tezuka saw what he wished not to see. It were no leaves scattered over the polished floor tiles. Black petals danced merrily, mockingly in front of his disbelieving eyes, passing him on their way out from where those death-coloured flowers were lying.

The pieces fell into place.

Tezuka closed his eyes, drawing a shaky breath to calm himself, while his mind was racing. 'Think logically.' He ordered himself, 'Be rational!'

Were he to be rational, Tezuka acknowledged, he could still contemplate the option of a rejected girl spreading terror through black flowers. That this had nothing to do with a ghost, with a drowned little girl, with Fujiwara Amane and a fourhoundred-year-old vow.

And the wind's howl outside rang like mocking laughter.

Damn. They'd thought there still was time. They'd gathered the facts last night and had been too exhausted to think much on them. And had made the terrible mistake of overlooking that their enemy hadn't been exhausted and wasn't likely to rest, now that all conditions had been fulfilled.

Some-sixty humans dead, some to remain nameless forevermore. Two spirits bound to defy the laws of nature. And his friend gone without a trace, perhaps to be…

'A vessel…' ,he heard Fujiwara's words rings, truly cold and malicious, now, that he understood their true content, now that he finally saw what she had known all along. Why the hell had he been so blind, why hadn't Fuji-san noted it either?

It should have been clear – Fuji's own talent, the fact that he'd already been possessed by her spirit once, her ambiguous speech – and yet they'd spectacularly failed.

He felt like fainting right here.

Tatsunori Ichirou had killed enough souls to revive his beloved. That little, five-year old girl had been the last one to die, since Tezuka had escaped. And Fuji was going to be the vessel – everything right out of a horror movie.

He'd seen it coming and done nothing. Now, standing on the threshold of an empty house with black roses on polished floor tiles and overcast skies against his back, he could only cling onto a desperate hope.

Hopefully it wouldn't be too late for his friend yet.

* * *

Dazed blue eyes blinked open, unseeing and glazed with fever. The slightest twitching of a limp hand and Tatsunori Ichirou turned his head from where he was kneeling on the floor, a piece of white chalk clutched by grey, ghostly fingers. 

"Are you waking up?" he drawled.

A weak, wet cough was the only answer. The body on the floor trembled and Fuji turned his head into that voice's direction. Feverish blue eyes met abysmal dark ones, a silent, hopeless plead expressed in vain.

"It's not quite time yet."

Another cough racked the frail frame and a thin trail of blood trickled from Fuji's mouth. Pale lips gasped for air, he could barely cling onto consciousness, yet he knew…

Knew that if he gave in now, all would be lost.

Underneath the ghost's curiously watching eyes, Fuji rolled onto his stomach. The motion made him see stars, yet he could feel the adrenalin kicking in.

"Though, the ceremony will begin soon" Tatsunori stated, grey fog swirling to assume an upright posture. The chalk clattered onto a tiled floor covered in obscure markings. Fuji pushed himself up, slowly rising to his knees.

The world was spinning and he felt sick, he wanted to lie down again; knew his body would pay him back for every further step tenfold, knew that the pain was going to be unbearable once it caught up. But he had no choice.

Tatsunori Ichirou let a wide, expectant grin spread across his face. "You will need to get ready, too."

Fuji, for the second time, raised his eyes to see the ghost descending.

* * *

Turning on his heel, Tezuka immediately abandoned all plans of going home, running at top speed to the next subway station. Mentally cursing himself for his helplessness, but his thoughts were running in circles. Hell, a kingdom for a car – how he wished to avoid the crowded trains right now, how he wished to set his own pace… to press forward, but already the commuters were eyeing his disshelved appearance wearily. He'd have taken a cab, a helicopter, if he'd found one now – no matter how outrageous their price. 

Who knew what Fuji was going through this moment? Had the ghosts already begun? How long had his friend been gone anyway? How was his cold? Was he still…

Panting, he managed to catch the subway about to leave for the outskirts, squeezing into an overcrowded train without paying any attention to the frowns he received in turn. His fingers were already dialling the number of Fuji Yumiko's mobile with the other hand.

Maybe she knew. Maybe just maybe…

There had been black roses on the floor. Tezuka closed his eyes, bit his lip and admitted to himself that even if all rational explanation failed, he ought not to cling onto any futile hopes.

The phone kept ringing and ringing and ringing.

And nothing happened. Fuji Yumiko refused to pick up. Tezuka dared not to think of what could be the reason. Hopefully she was only out, buying groceries or whatever. Hopefully not…

Biting his lip, Tezuka settled for texting her. It was odd, putting this situation into words. Made everything seem smaller, less important than it really was – and then he slumped down into his seat, burying his head in his hands, while outside, somewhere behind the grey storm clouds the sun begun to descend.

* * *

Darkness was what Fuji opened his eyes to. Darkness, hard ground, dizziness and complete silence. Or maybe he just couldn't hear a thing – his head felt horribly stuffed, worse than before. 

He didn't know where he was, he realized, even though he might just be delirious. There remained just enough clearness in his mind to grasp that thought and hold onto it, while the rest of his senses were drowned by fever.

Shivering with cold, but burning up at the same time. Suffocating darkness, yet there seemed to be a light somewhere. Cold hard ground, but layers of soft fabric…

Maybe nothing of this is real, Fuji thought, trying to breath even though the constriction around his chest had worsened, maybe he was lying in his bed at home, delirious, and worrying his poor sister.

Maybe…

A violent cough shattered the beautifully warm-coloured picture his mind had been painting into a thousand cutting pieces. It hurt, physically; a sore burning in his throat, pain erupting from his lungs and exploding in his head.

He could taste blood in his mouth when the cough abated, but refused to consider the implications. Shivering weakly, he dazedly blinked into the light's direction, trying vainly to collect himself.

The sense of tranquillity permeating those wistful wishes his mind had tried to stick onto a barren reality had irrevocably faded, abandoned Fuji to stagnant darkness and motionless air.

There were no windows he could see, he dimly realized, no door either. Walls, crumbled shelves and dust… and somewhere amid those a lonesome candle, it's flame quietly eating away at the wax.

Dark foreboding befell Fuji's senses.

This was not a beacon of hope.

It was his steadily shrinking lifelight.

* * *

The outside had become notably darker when Tezuka left the train station. Temperatures had dropped, too. The wind blowing brown leaves through the air had an icy bite, easily penetrating every layer Tezuka wore.With a feeling of dark foreboding he stepped onto the empty streets. 

For a moment Tezuka faltered. A strange sensation overcame him, something didn't feel right in the air. Maybe it was only the wind, maybe the twilight. Maybe the complete lack of anything living… maybe he ought to call for help, ought not to charge ahead alone.

'And abandon Fuji?' he mentally asked himself.

Drawing a deep breath, and steeling himself, Tezuka put away his cell phone. He'd not call for help. Not his parents either. They'd be as helpless against the ghosts as he himself. If worse came to worst…

They'd notice his absence if he didn't make it back in time for dinner. They'd grow suspicious should he fail to answer his mobile. Maybe dinner was still hours away, but if…

Just in case …

And then he took off running.

No soul passed him on his way to the old building. The vines were shivering in the wind, whispering to themselves; the old trees' branches trembling as if possessed. It was still daylight out here, yet it felt like a nightmare.

With baited breath Tezuka pushed open the old iron gates. His heart pounded madly and he almost couldn't believe what he was doing, having spent the entire, two hour train ride alternating between driving himself insane with worry or envisioning himself walking into…

… what?

What was expecting him behind the closed door? What kind of scene would he find… Or would he be dead before he had time to realize?

A soft click behind him, the door fell shut once again. There was an odd sense of finality to that noise that sent shivers down Tezuka's spine. Fear gripped his soul in a previously unknown intensity, but he couldn't back down now. He couldn't turn back, couldn't …

'No.' Tezuka told himself, even as a black crow fluttered down from the second story roof. 'I made a decision.'

The bird landed on the fence, cocking his head and watching the newcomer with obvious interest. Was it waiting for him to enter and meet his fate?

Tezuka stepped on the stairs. Stepping inside meant stepping into the ghost's own territory. He'd be a sitting duck there…

Crows meant death.

Tezuka looked at the imposing dark wooden door, trying to order his reeling mind, trying to suppress fear and anxiety long enough to clear his head. He had to keep his senses about him. Storming in heedlessly wouldn't help Fuji; would be utterly suicidal.

Maybe he should go around and try glancing through the windows. It was still light enough out here to see the inside, and even though he wouldn't be able to check the second floor like that, he prayed he'd find a clue on the first one.

Hurrying along the mossy, overgrown path that lead around the house and into the expansive backyard, Tezuka had to stop to catch his breath. Bending over, he wearily raised his head to survey the scenery.

Instinctively every nerve in his body tensed, urging him to distrust the undisturbed, tranquil garden with its enormous ponds, little bridges, hedges, leafless trees and evergreens. The water lay dark, undisturbed but by a few ruffles caused by the wind. Leaves flew by, playful, frightening, dead and yet in motion.

Following the path of an odd coloured leaf, Tezuka suddenly saw something else. Something that made his heart beat faster.

The teahouse.

Far out into the garden, only visible due to the seasonal lull of vegetation, he made out white walls and a dark roof, adorned with faded ornaments. Old, worn, but yet beautifully preserved in this autumn scenery of death and decay.

'_I died there waiting…'_

Tezuka's eyes snapped wide open.

Logic dictated he ought to search the house first. It was the ghost's centre of power, the first possession had taken place in there – but a subtle sense, a voice Tezuka had never ever heard before, whispered to him that he had to go into the teahouse.

That secret room Fujiwara Amane had mentioned…

But did it still exist? And if, was it of any consequence? Logically, no, but…

For a moment he was torn between the options. Heart beating frantically he glanced both ways, until kissing rationality goodbye and taking off for the teahouse, not even caring if the ghost heard his approach.

The path beneath his feat was mossy, overgrown and barely visible, yet even over the desperation Tezuka felt like he was going into the right direction. Perhaps it was desperation, or the adrenalin kicking in, yet he recklessly tore through overgrown bushes.

He didn't even notice the sharp branch leaving a bloody scratch along his cheek, when he practically jumped onto the porch. Out of breath and trembling with fear he stepped forward on ancient, creaking wood.

The spirits most certainly had already noted his presence, there was no need for secrecy. All he wanted was to get Fuji out of here, alive and unharmed. Nothing besides that mattered now.

He reached out and wrenched open the sliding door without stopping; the old, papery thin contraption burst inward, blown out of its frame. Frantically, mad with anxiety and with sweat dripping down his back, Tezuka looked around, searching for any hint.

Nothing was there, the room completely empty, empty even of dust and leaves. White had long since faded to grey and the tatami covered floor had seen better times, but there was absolutely nothing.

'_Underneath the teahouse…'_

With shivering hands he dropped onto his knees, knocking on the floor, testing the tatami for anything, anything at all.

Maybe he was wrong, a malicious voice in his head was whispering, maybe you should have gone to the main house immediately. Maybe Fuji will die now, because you made a wrong decision. It'll all be your fault…

'Shut up.' Tezuka firmly told himself. He'd never panicked before, and now was the wrong time to start.

With a grim smirk of satisfaction he heard his last knock resound hollowly. This is it, he told himself, dizzy with excitement and disbelief – he still couldn't fathom what he was doing, that it was him, stoic, ever-rational and calm captain of Seigaku's tennis team, who'd rushed headless to a friend's rescue.

Tearing the tatami away violently, he found the old trapdoor. Trembling fingers grabbed the knob, wrenching the ancient construction open. Dimly he wondered if he was the first person to use it after four-hundred-years. And shuddered.

Dispelling the thoughts, he glanced into an abyss. It was dark, black even, he thought at the first moment. Until his eyes made out the outline of a steep ladder leading down. Some light had to be burning down there, else he wouldn't be seeing down so far.

Fear suddenly gnawed at his insides. Did he dare to climb down there, with nobody knowing where he was? Did he dare to climb under the earth without a safe way back up? Would he climb down never to return again?

"Hello? Is …" Coughing. "Is somebody … there? Hello?"

* * *

AN: "lifelight" – (superstition in Germany (other places too?), that hardly anybody believes in anymore) tallest candle on your birthday usually represents your "lifelight". Should that candle go out or fall over before you blow it out yourself it means bad luck – in a more extreme reading could even mean death. 

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it and if you have suggestions or comments, please share them with me.


	14. Chapter 14

**Ghost Hunt**

* * *

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Further warnings: focussed entirely on Fuji and Tezuka

Author is no native English speaker (always glad to accept corrections)

Angst

* * *

As for reviews…

Little Red Rabbit: blush thank you very much. Those descriptions have a tendency to come to me very late at night (or early in the morning), so I'm glad to know they aren't utterly weird (or pathetic).

Aleana Flame Dragonstar: - The magical element sort of worked itself out, and the romance part… well, I'm not that good at romance, so things will move slowly. But I'm glad you like it.

Speadee: As for the detailed workings of said 'abduction', you guessed more or less correctly. Fuji got possessed and 'followed' Tatsunori to the house. And well, we'll just have to see how everything plays out -

Yoshikochan: - Oho, let's see whether Tezuka manages to rescue his 'beloved'. (And whether he will eventually realize that he's in love) There might be some more trouble to come …Anyways, thanks for reviewing!

StarDancer1234: …hm, let's just say, facing the ghost won't be too easy. Anyways, for this chapter, however, priorities might lie somewhere else. Whether all's going to end well… -

Sango Hikari: Waah, your reviews never fail to make me smile like an idiot. Anyways, after writing a lot of angst, I suddenly felt like lightening the entire thing up a little (though, more to the effect of lightening up before having everything come crashing down…). Ne, hope you'll enjoy the rest, too.

Immortal Wifey: Thanks for loving a chapter (even though nothing much happened in it…) and I hope you'll like the next one too.

* * *

A little late, but still - please enjoy!

* * *

**14. Requiem**

Fuji Yumiko left the university's library at quarter to five, glancing in weary astonishment at the skies that had remained rainless until now. She'd be amazed, should the weather actually hold, and upon entering the lift she threw a routine glance at her mobile.

To see she had several missed calls and one message left. Dread blossomed in her stomach and she scrolled down the list. All calls had been left by Tezuka-kun – worry started gnawing at her, she hadn't wanted to leave her brother alone at home, but he had been getting better…

With shaking hands she opened the message.

_Fuji is missing. I have reason to believe he is at the mansion. Please come there soon._

And she needed no verification. She'd seen visions, caught glimpses already of what was going to happen. So even if she'd prayed for the opposite….

The nightmare was coming true.

* * *

"_Hello? Is …" Coughing. "Is somebody there? Hello?"_

White-hot recognition flashed through Tezuka's veins. Ice that had previously frozen his mind and obstructed his movements, instantly thawed, replaced by burning urgency. He had been right all along. Fuji was down there, hoarse and coughing perhaps, but alive and still himself.

Alive.

Relief flooded his breathless body, washed over scraps and shaken senses, and it was with the world blurring from a sudden on-set of dizziness, of water in his eyes, that Tezuka slumped over.

After everything that had happened, this felt too good to be true.

"Hello?" Fuji called again, voice trembling with barely suppressed anxiety. Tezuka's heart clenched, even as a particular sharp gust of wind outside knocked branches against the teahouse's ancient walls. And then, suddenly, wet, choked coughs rang out, throttling any other attempts at speech his friend might have made.

"Fuji!" Tezuka shouted back, devastated by the images assaulting his mind. How much had Fuji's condition worsened? How long had he been down there, in the cold? How much more could his friend's frail body take, before…

… before all help came too late?

Biting his lip, Tezuka tried to deny this possibility, tried to convince himself that everything would be alright. Yet staring down into the absolute darkness of the underworld made him wonder – summoned the utterly most horrifying picture of climbing down only to watch Fuji die before his eyes.

'Never.' Tezuka swore to himself, shuddering when a cold gust of wind tore through the opened door, swept over ancient tatami and carried the smell of decaying leaves into the small chamber.

'Never.' He repeated to himself, even as all he could hear from underneath were weak gasps.

Determinedly he gathered himself and set a testing foot on the ladder. Old, rust-befallen metal groaned and scrunched in protest, but his heart pounded louder. Blood rushing through his veins, he held his breath, dizzy to the degree he couldn't tell whether the darkness was natural or stemmed from a lack of oxygen.

"Tezuka?!" Fuji's voice, finally, choked as it was with astonishment and something much worse, liquid and red, "What are you …?"

The ladder held and, praying the rest would hold to, Tezuka took a deep breath, bid a mental goodbye to the raging wind outside and climbed down as fast as he could, almost tripping over his own feet. For once, he forgot about having to climb up again, forgot about the darkness, about his lack of a helpful utensils. He possessed neither a flashlight nor a first-aid kit, and it was ridiculous to believe his mere presence would suffice to make the world all right again, but sanity had fled his mind for the time being.

Coughs again, stifled and choked, making his skin crawl. Fearing the worst, dreading he might find his nightmare come true, Tezuka wanted nothing more than to reach out to Fuji. To grasp his hand and make sure it was warm with life.

Grasp it and never let go…

Metal rattled and Tezuka's feet hit the ground. He turned, blinking into the darkness, surprised. He wasn't completely lost and blind, but he could make out vague shapes within the suffocating darkness. Yet he barely took notice of the tiny, flickering candle posted high on a shelf in the far corner of the chamber.

"Fuji, where…"

"Te…" and the rest dissolved in coughs. Turning his head into the vague direction of the noise, barely even registering the metallic rattle he'd also heard, Tezuka stopped short the moment his eyes fell onto the scene. His breath caught in disbelief and everything became numb.

The secret chamber must have been spacious enough to make for a comfortable hide-out, once, four-hundred-years ago. Now, dust and decay had long since settled in. Somebody, centuries later must have thought of it as - maybe a cage for animals, maybe a dungeon – there were thick, iron bars separating one corner from the rest of the room.

A cage.

Right out of some cheap horror movie, an old cage in a secret room stuffed with ancient equipment of dubious use. And the beautiful dress-up doll, smothered by a multi-layered kimono sitting inside, small, white hands clutching the bars, was Fuji.

'NO!' Tezuka thought.

"Tezuka!" Fuji called out once more, excitement only barely covering his desperation or how sick he truly was.

One hand reached out blindly into his direction, but was worn down by heavy sleeves, that couldn't pass the small spaces between the bars. The kimono's silk seemed to glow in the little light, its heavy folds and voluminous sleeves only further dwarfing his slight figure.

And Fuji's face was so white, so unnaturally white with lips painted red from blood and hair pinned up by ornamental needles glinting golden in the candlelight. But he smiled. Smiled such a heartbreakingly sweet and honest smile.

Something deep within Tezuka snapped at the sight.

He stumbled forward blindly, forgetting about obstacles, forgetting about the threat hanging over their heads. His heart clenching painfully, forgetting about the old, sturdy iron bars, he reached out, wanting to reassure his friend, to reassure himself.

They were both here, they were alive – no matter how many ghosts there were, no matter how bad the predictions for their future, no matter how bleak the now was – they were here, alive, breathing. The ghost hadn't succeeded yet, hadn't …

'We're alive.'

He reached out with a hand trembling from relief, grasping Fuji's with his own and sank down onto his knees in front of the bars. Blue eyes, shining with a myriad of emotions, sought his – maybe overcome with fever, worn by exhaustion, but yet full of hope and relief.

"Fuji." he mumbled, barely able to bear the sight of his friend reduced to … this. Sickness had left his face a chalky white, his body too weak to stand on his own, even without this monstrosity of a dress weighting him down.

There were tears shining in his friend's eyes and Tezuka wondered what it must have been like, caged and alone in a dark room, with a lonely candle for company, one that, like sand running out of a clock, dwindled. A constant reminder of impending death, of a gruesome future to come…

As if to chase away those dark thoughts, Fuji smiled warmly at him. As if to say, don't worry, all will be alright, nothing bad will happen. All will be fine. All will be…

Why the hell was it Fuji reassuring him? Why was he so utterly… so utterly incapable of lending a helping hand when it was so obviously needed? He had set out determined to help Fuji, and now… now he was seeking security in Fuji's warm smile, trying desperately to hang his hopes onto the make-belief playing on lips, whose red was a lie painted in blood?

Biting his lip, violently pressing back the surging tears, Tezuka reached out, through the bars, burying a hand in Fuji's hair, trying to draw his team mate into his arms once more, as if there was no iron separating them.

He'd give it back. Give back every small amount of hope and assurance Fuji had ever given him; this time he'd be the one making things alright. This time he'd be the one hold Fuji until the warmth returned to those cold, delicate hands.

One clang and a choked exclamation from Fuji later and he knew that it wasn't possible. His hands felt no warmth through the outer layer of luxuriously decorated silk, only further layers of clothes that made it hard to breath. Fuji's hand remained trembling and cold, weakly returning the pressure, but Tezuka found the smell of Fuji's shampoo over the tang of blood.

"Te…tezuka." Fuji meekly protested against being squished against the iron bars. His body, Tezuka realized with anxiety, was completely numb. Like a doll. Fuji had barely any strength left, not to stand, not to struggle – Tezuka's arms were all that held him in his current position.

"Pl… please, you're…!"

Still, Tezuka only reluctantly let go of his shoulders. Carefully letting Fuji sink back onto the barren floor and he once more patted Fuji's hair before drawing back. Only of Fuji's left hand he refused to let go – smiling at the questioning expression in barely-opened blue eyes.

Pressing the hand, willing warmth to return to it, Tezuka fought back the tears welling up in his eyes. Refusing to wipe at them with the sleeve of his black coat, he blinked and whispered:

"Don't worry."

Fuji squeezed his hand in return, mustering a tired but real smile. And it broke his heart to see the unparalleled amount of trust shimmering in the ocean blue gaze. One more longing glance, one more wish for the metal bars to be gone, before Tezuka accepted the cold reality.

"Do you know where the key is?" he asked, his voice choked with emotions. He didn't want to let go of Fuji's hand, not, when he could feel the pulse there, not, when warmth was slowly returning into it and his friend's cheeks regained a little colour.

Fuji shook his head, looking down. "When I woke up, everything was already like this." He whispered, even though his throat protested violently against the motion. Coughs bubbled up, yet, biting his tongue, he suppressed them.

"Hm." Tezuka frowned, eyeing the lock, painfully aware of Fuji's laboured breathing. The lock was ancient, yet would most probably hold out against brute force. At least, his strength wouldn't suffice.

Either the key or something else. Desperately Tezuka let his gaze wander across dusty shelves, hardly visible in the growing darkness. Hadn't some former inhabitant left something useful? Was there anything around? Anything at all?

Fuji coughed again, weakly raising his other hand to wipe at his mouth. The sleeve was already stained with blood; dull red patches against colourful silk – almost invisible.

Instinctively Tezuka reached out for his friend's hand again, wincing silently as he felt the tremors coursing through the frail body. He couldn't bear watching, and yet he was too afraid to look away.

Because if he did… If only for one moment he glanced into another direction… who knew if he wasn't forsaking Fuji's life with a careless gesture. If Fuji wouldn't slip away the minute he…

'Stop it.' Tezuka told himself firmly, seeking Fuji's eyes to see how it truly stood for his friend's health.

But Fuji only turned away and coughed more.

"Fuji…" he muttered, helpless to do anything but clasp his friend's hand tighter, "…are you…?"

He didn't even know the words to use. Had no clue how to voice a question, when the idea alone had his heart quivering in fearful anticipation.

"Ne… Te…Tezuka…" Fuji gasped, eventually, but his head stayed bowed, hair shadowing his drawn features, "I… don't … don't worry."

Consternation washed over Tezuka, disbelief at such heart-wrenching stupidity. Enveloping his hand with both hands, soothingly rubbing over bony knuckles, he tried to catch a glimpse of his friend's face.

"Really, Fuji, please…"

"Ne…" pulling himself up a little, Fuji lifted his head to smile at Tezuka, "I've … been better."

Wide-eyed Tezuka starred at the traces of fresh blood clinging to the corner of Fuji's mouth, perturbed by the deathly pallor of his face. He couldn't deny the severity of this anymore, couldn't continue to cling onto naïve hopes…

And it felt like a black hole opening up in the confines of his gut, swallowing his insides one after another, tearing at his heart, dragging it toward that spiralling dark abyss. If …

"Tezuka…" Fuji whispered suddenly, solemn eyes fixed onto Tezuka's – compelling him to lean forward, to look nowhere else – as if to draw him out of his troubled thoughts.

"The ghost…" Fuji set out tentatively, "They want…"

"I know." Tezuka whispered, hand reaching out to cup Fuji's white cheek. The skin was soft, unbelievably soft underneath his trembling fingers, but frighteningly cold. Brown eyes hardened in determination, he looked at his friend and made a silent vow to do everything he could.

If this was going to take his life, so be it.

As long as Fuji was safe, he wouldn't mind dieing.

"I know what they want." Tezuka said, his voice hoarse and choked with emotions. Blinking back tears, he tilted Fuji's face up, until their eyes met.

Myriads of feelings reflected from those blue pools, sensation upon sensation and nothing to stop him from drowning in the maelstrom. Leaning forward even more, as if physically attempting to banish all horrid thoughts from his friend's mind, Tezuka smiled softly at him.

"But I'm not going to let that happen."

Astonished blue eyes blinked up at him, perhaps the most wonderful expression Tezuka had seen his friend wear since last night. There was pleasant surprise, a sliver of hope and a fragment of … was that happiness? Or was that this odd emotion that caused foreign stirrings in his own heart?

Then Fuji bowed his head, wiping at his eyes, trying to hide those tears of happiness. His shoulders were shaking a little, but the first time in what felt like an eternity those painful coughs were not at fault.

Little giggles – choked, mixed with hoarse coughs and feverish perhaps – pealed from Fuji's trembling form. Tezuka felt relief crawling through his veins at this sight and he couldn't help slumping down, tension draining from his shoulders.

"Then I hope you know how to pick a lock." Fuji announced, an ounce of playfulness returning to his voice. Maybe he was ill enough to be in hospital, maybe he was locked into a dark cellar with only a steadily shrinking candle for light, but just for this moment, with the warmth of Tezuka's hand holding his he found a spark of hope within himself. Enough to smile, enough to hope for a tomorrow.

Enough to make Tezuka look at the thick iron lock with renewed determination. Somehow there had to be a way to open that thing, and if not, there had to be a way to get Fuji out of this hellish contraption.

And come hell and high water, if there was a way, he was going to find it.

Once more Tezuka glanced around at barren walls, but there was nothing, no key, no saw, no hammer.

"Fuji, do you know … anything that could help me break this lock?"

Shivering with exhaustion Fuji reached back and dislodged several pompous hairpins from his head. Shaking his hair free with relief, he proffered them to Tezuka, who raised an eyebrow at the glittering assortment.

They shared a smile – for a split second normality had been restored. They could hope for a happy ending, they could hope to escape this madness…

And then Tezuka set to work. His palms were clammy and his mind taunted him about never having picked a lock before. Voices whispering, that if it were Eiji or Momoshirou in his place, the lock would have been opened hours ago. If it had been Kawamura, those old bars wouldn't have stood a chance.

That he wasn't cut for the task, that all he brought for Fuji was disappointments and trouble, that he would fail, fail, fail.

Biting his lip until he tasted blood, Tezuka grimly reached for another pin, pushing the first on as deep into the mechanism as possible. Something old groaned – maybe he was onto something here.

Fuji was leaning against the other side of the bars, watching his progress through barely opened eyes. Whenever Tezuka looked up he wondered whether his friend had gotten paler still. Whether his breathing sounded even more laboured than the last time. Whether he'd make it in time…

In time before…

… before …

He shivered.

No, it wouldn't happen. He had made a promise, Tezuka told himself, and he hadn't yet broken any of his promises. And panicking wouldn't help – he had to keep working.

It had gotten colder, or maybe it was only the adrenalin dying down. Tezuka set aside one pin, reaching for a string of cloth. The sweat covering his forehead was cooling rapidly, as something like a gust of wind swept down from the outside.

"Tezuka…" Fuji's breathless voice made him look up in surprise.

Cold gripped his heart, just as a whiff of wet leaves, a breath of frosty air from the outside rushed to meet his sweat-soaked back. Something rattled - the wind outside?, the candle's small flame flickered wildly, casting distorted shadows across the room, the lock in his hands suddenly felt twice as cold - like icy and something, something...

"TEZUKA!"

Fuji's wide, frightened eyes were the last thing Tezuka Kunimitsu saw before darkness claimed his vision.

* * *

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it and if you have suggestions or comments, please share them with me. 


	15. Chapter 15

Ghost Hunt

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Further warnings: focussed entirely on Fuji and Tezuka

Author is no native English speaker (always glad to accept corrections)

Angst

AN: Sorry, sorry, sorry that this update took so horridly long. Reason is that I sort of changed the end of the story… which means more drama, but slower updates. Ehehe, sorry again. And an early merry Christmas to everybody celebrating!

A1y-puff: All 14 chapters in a row – wow. Glad you liked it, though. Even happier to hear that somebody else likes drama and kitsch as much as I do. … And concerning the ending… well, it's not that far away, but as the aftermath isn't short either – it should be something around 5 or 6 chapters to go.

Speadee: Good guess about the library! But as to whether Yumiko arrives in time – that depends on what you consider in time. … though I suppose she might just arrive timely enough to keep somebody else from dieing. But as to how the entire problem is going to be solved… we'll see. (enabled pm)

Yoshikochan: Yes, those ghosts are quite annoying. (they annoyed me too, because they just wouldn't remain plainly evil but suddenly demanded a backstory…). And for that scene (well, it's obvious I've been watching too many movies lately) it was fun to let Tezuka act instinctively. (actually, it's kinda funny – everybody can tell they're in love, but they're still more or less clueless.)

Sango Hikari: You know, while reading your review I suddenly got the most wonderful image of … Ghostbuster Tezuka Kunimitsu… dies laughing . If I'm going to write an omake in the end (I'm quite tempted), I'll include that one. But anyways, your guess is as always more or less correct – there is still some trouble to come.

Norisumi: I just can't help those cliffhangers. sweatdrop they sort of force themselves upon me… And that wasn't even the last one. But, I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long for the update.

Nymphadora1982: Glad to know that even after 14chapters the tension still holds. And that kitschy moment was quite fun to write – I could just picture the scene so nicely, and since I absolutely adore kitsch and the like… well, maybe you can imagine what will happen in the chapters too come.

Frozen Dragon: … I do too hope neither Fuji nor Tezuka will die… Well, I don't think they will, even though it's tempting. Ah well, the rest of the team might just show up later on…

Please enjoy!

15. Fughetta

"What did you do?" Fuji gasped, turning to the person that stepped from the darkness behind Tezuka's motionless form. His fingers unconsciously gripped the soft material of Tezuka's coat even tighter. Tremors were coursing through Fuji's body, but he stubbornly remained clutching his friend's unconscious body.

Seigaku's buchou was slumped against the cold iron bars, kept half-upright there by Fuji's arms, eyes closed in unnatural respite and a golden hairpin still loosely clutched in a half-opened fist.

As for the other person - pale, greyish skin and dark eyes twinkled with frightening, cold mirth in the flickering candlelight.

"Nothing yet. Though I could think of several things…"

"Don't touch him!" Fuji interrupted fiercely, before coughs once shook his small frame. And when the ghost only kept smirking down at him, he abandoned his dignity, drawing himself to his knees and begged.

"Please! Don't touch him! He hasn't anything to do with this! He … He isn't whom you're after!"

Tears were burning in his eyes and his heart was throbbing with desperation. It felt like falling down a spiralling black abyss; he only kept falling deeper and deeper and there was no ground to meet, no hold to find, nothing to cling onto…

… he could only try his best not to drag Tezuka down with him. He'd already done so much – had stepped into a world he would under normal circumstances have not even acknowledged, tried to believe in the paranormal oddities that would have send anybody else run screaming.

And even after everything… even after Fuji himself had tried to take his life, Tezuka had come to save him.

"Please!" Fuji whispered, voice choked by tears, "Please."

Hanging his head in wordless submission, ignoring the dizziness sending his senses spinning, he concentrated on the feeling of Tezuka's body in his arms. Maybe for the last time…

The slight rise and fall of his chest… the dark, unruly hair tickling his nose… the smooth, unblemished skin… Tezuka, Fuji realized with a painful twinge, was still much of a child. Too much of one to die here, to die in a setting that most adults would never have braved.

Therefore…

"Please…. Please… I'll… I'll do anything."

Tatsunori Ichirou tilted his head in mock contemplation. "Ah, now, if I promised to leave him alone – you would stop resisting? You would follow me and allow the ceremony to happen?"

It was, Fuji had to acknowledge, a rather generous offer. With his body as weak as this he had little chance of escaping his fate anyways. Even if his heart broke, when he thought about all the hopes he had clung onto only minutes ago. The rush of relief that had soared through his body when he'd heard Tezuka's familiar voice, when he'd felt the warmth of buchou's hands.

Had it all been too good to be true? Couldn't, just for once, just this time his prayers been answered? Hadn't he seen enough?

That girl, when he'd barely been five. He'd been her, when she'd been killed. His grandparents' death, the night he and his sister had run through half of Tokyo in the rain, trying to reach the side of the accident before they did…

Hadn't it been enough? Couldn't – only this time…

No, Fuji told himself, trying to gather himself. Desperation was useless, not, when his life was as good as over anyways. He had known all along, that this moment would come. From the first time he'd set foot into this very house, he'd felt it.

Nee-san's strange behaviour – she must have known, too. Or at least have had an inkling.

Fighting the inevitable wouldn't change the outcome, he knew from bitter experience. So, now, that his time had come and he couldn't save his own life … it didn't mean he couldn't do anything for anybody else.

There was no need for him to die lamenting his own fate, not, when he could repay the one person that had dared to stand up against the wheels of fortune. The one who had tried to defy fate and come to his rescue, braving insane ghosts and certain death.

If his death would protect Tezuka's life, then he could still die without regrets.

"Yes." he replied, voice deadened, "I'll be your vessel and you'll leave Tezuka alone for the rest of his life."

Tatsunori Ichirou smiled, recognizing a kindred sentiment. "Very well. A life for a life. I'll give you my word. And now, it's time."

Tezuka woke up to a pounding head and total darkness. The small candle had long since burnt out and night had fallen – at least, down here, underneath the teahouse no light remained. It made no difference whether his eyes were open or close, the impenetrable thick blackness remained.

His head began rebelling the moment he tried to sit up, and feeling as if he was going to faint soon again, he wondered if he only was missing the black spots in front of his eyes because he was already surrounded by complete darkness.

One half of his mind pleaded to consider his injuries. With his head aching, and his body stiff and cold, he should go for a hospital, or home in the very least, not for a blood-thirsty ghost. At least, to wait until that feeling of sickness abated…

But he recalled Fuji, dressed up in all those fancy clothes, the sacrifice for this occult ceremony. The smile on Fuji's face, the look in his eyes the moment Tezuka had entered the scene. That small, heart-wrenching spark of hope when all ought to have been lost. Could he honestly break his promise? Could he just turn his back on the very person he had vowed to protect with his life earlier? Abandon Fuji to an unknown fate and escape to a safe haven himself? Would his conscience ever let him live this down? With his intestines churning, Tezuka pushed himself up, trying to quench the panic threatening to overcome him.

He wouldn't give up just now! Not as long as there was still air his lungs and he didn't know it was too late yet!

Blindly stumbling through the dark with his hand passing over cold, dirty walls and things he hoped he'd never have to identify – until finally, the grasped steel. Dizziness rose dangerously for a moment and he had to grasp the latter with both hands to remain upright.

Sweat was soaking through his clothes when he eventually managed to put one foot on the first step, and the world kept spinning. Drawing a deep breath he prayed that tonight, there was at least on generous deity listening in to grant him a safe ascend – if he failed now and here, they'd both end up dead.

'Maybe you both will, anyways.' that small voice in his head hissed again, 'All your efforts in vain. You know, your friend might already be dead.'

A vision of Fuji, motionless on the ground crossed his mind briefly and for a split second, his grip failed. Then he got hold of himself again. Firmly shaking his head – even if those brought white-hot explosions of pain – he continued upward.

'Say whatever you want.' the voice continued, 'You'll see yourself…'

Step for arduous step, the metal cold and wet and dirty underneath his fingers, his heart pounding and nothing but darkness for company. Voices conjuring nightmarish pictures, rationality urging him to turn around, wait for morning, for help, or at least to take care of his own injuries first.

And Tezuka's hand grasped Tatami instead of cold stone, felt a breeze of cold air ghosting over the back of his hand and making him shiver. Hurriedly, he pulled himself out of the hole, happy to leave this grave behind. The tearoom appeared positively light in comparison, even thought night had almost completely fallen outside.

He sank onto the mats and had to catch his breath. Painfully, because the air icily bit into his strained lungs. For a moment his vision went black, but he forced his body remain conscious. Muscles hurting as if he'd played an hour-long tennis match against a particularly vindictive opponent, throbbing cursing through his left shoulder. Dimly, just a far corner of his mind remembered that nasty injury, and hoped it wouldn't worsen with the strain this. Then, no, as long as he survived whatever repercussions would be okay. Just as long as Fuji and he survived…

This wasn't healthy. Dangerous – there had to be something seriously wrong with himself if he couldn't climb a latter without collapsing half-way up, if he kept having spells of dizziness.

'Turn back, run away!' rationality cautioned, yet as long as his friend's fate remained unknown Tezuka knew he couldn't rest. Not without spending the rest of his life wondering whether he couldn't have made a difference. Whether it hadn't been his fault…

Even though he was sweating on a cold November night, Tezuka grimly forced himself up once more, making his way through the old door and into the even colder garden. Where the gently swaying evergreen trees had appeared tranquil before, now their forms appeared haunted, foreboding. Figures seemed to be lurking in darkened corners, sounds and movements in unexpected places and the world kept blurring before his eyes.

Making his way toward the mansion with a heart heavy with dread, his glance fell to the water on his left. The smooth pane reflected dancing shadows, ripples running across the surface,; a surface dotted with the last blood-red autumn leaves, their dead bodies floating gently across this picture of serene, haunting beauty. He wondered absently whether it was this pond that the little girl had drowned in and whether, if he were to loose consciousness and fall into it now, would suffer the very same fate.

Dancing shadows on the surface, luring him to come nearer, to let himself guided to his death by dancing lights. Cold wind made branches rustle, rippled the surface and howled around the mansion's walls.

The house was a massive black silhouette looming threateningly overhead, only barely visible against the overcast night sky. With cold seeping through his clothes and the wind tearing at his hair, making him stumble along the uneven path he wanted nothing more than to wake up at home in his warm bed. Safe and whole and with everybody else safe too…

If everything could only be nightmare, if he could just wander into those dark waters and drown to wake up somewhere else…

But he'd never given up before. He wouldn't start now, not when it meant death, not when it would mean a life-time spend regretting. Not when there was a friend's life on line.

No, he told himself firmly, now wasn't the time for such thoughts. He had to get his priorities in order – regardless of rationality's reminder to take care of his own injuries first. Rationality didn't understand the situation.

Because, actually, Tezuka realized and the accompanying shudder made his steps falter, against the ghost, no matter if he was healthy or not, he stood no chance. This was an ancient spirit, well-versed in killing – one more dead wouldn't make any difference. Tezuka had no experience with the occult, no clue what he would find, how to make things right.

Yet backing down from a challenge, and the moment Tezuka recognized candlelight flickering from one of the mansion's windows, he sped up once more, ignoring his ferocious headache.

Even if it'd mean his death, he'd still go in there and try all he could. He had given a promise, made a decision – and to him, breaking a vow would equal dying anyways. There was nothing to be afraid of, he told himself, hurrying into the direction of the back door, hidden in darkness. Overgrown bushes kept getting in the way, he heard his jacket rip, skin broke on contact, but he only wrenched his arm away violently and pushed forward.

With a pounding heart, he barged right through the back door that miraculously wasn't locked. Ignoring the darkness, ignoring the screaming of his lungs for more air, for a rest, he charged in. It didn't matter that he was practically blind, that the darkness was suffocating and that the old wooden panels scratched his palms until they bled. He knew only of one thing, one destination, one thing to do, before he could fall into pieces.

Blindly taking turns at the corners, tearing down black hallways at break-neck speed, until eventually, he came before the massive wooden door.

Dizziness or perhaps something else – fear, maybe – made him slow down. Almost in awe he approached step by step, fighting both exhaustion and terror on the inside. He dared not to imagine what atrocity would greet him on that door's other side, what horrifying scenery would be revealed.

Touching the golden knob almost reverently he pushed everything back, hoping that a blank mind would be as good as any – he couldn't listen to rationality anymore, had never tried to go with his emotions.

And with his breath held he opened the door.

It swung inward slowly, making no sound at all and revealing step by step a scene right out of a horror movie.

There were candles, everywhere. On the ground, on the walls, on the windows – some in holders, some simply put on the floor, all flickering, tinting the room a reddish glow with black, dancing shadows. There seemed to be some pattern to their placement, Tezuka thought, one that responded to the chalk markings on the marble floor.

Hadn't Yumiko asked about markings on the ground, once, a long, long time ago? Hadn't she been disturbed when they had been missing?

Had Fuji Yumiko – Tezuka's heart halted – foreseen this happening?

A choked gasp escaped his throat and his eyes found the centre of all the patterns, circles and obscure writings. Laid out on cold marble was his friend.

Buried underneath the heavy clothes, Fuji's frail form was almost invisible. He rested in an unnatural position, almost, as if he had been kneeling and fainted suddenly. But what scared Tezuka most was the complete lack of motion.

Not even the slight rise and fall of the chest could be perceived, no indication to be found that his friend was still alive.

Blood froze in his veins as his mind, for the very first time, seriously entertained an idea he should have much earlier considered a valid possibility. Hadn't he been so caught up in denying the paranormal, getting rid of the ghost and restoring reality as he knew it, maybe then he wouldn't have been so blind to the danger.

Because, he'd seen the ghost at work. Had witnessed a possession. Had heard of people dieing.

And still…

Still, it took Fuji's lifeless form on the ground in front of him to make him finally admit to the danger.

Why hadn't he…

No, Tezuka firmly told himself, no! Now self-incrimination now. No regrets!

There would be time enough later on – or perhaps not, if the ghost decided to spontaneously kill him too. But standing here, frozen and useless, was not doing anything at all. And he'd already stood by and watched for far too long.

"Fuji…" he wanted to shout his team mate's name, but his voice came out a pitiful whisper that barely carried across the room.

Remembering to breath, Tezuka forced his body to move, to snap out of the horrified trance he'd fallen into.

"Fuji!"

He wanted to run over there. Run there and shake his friend until those blue eyes opened up and Fuji started complaining. Or coughing. Or whatever. Just until he reacted, showed a sign that he was alive, that this wasn't permanent, that there everything would be all right. That he could continue clinging onto hope against all odds…

But a terribly familiar voice stopped his approach short.

"You're too late." Tatsunori whispered, gracefully stepping past Tezuka's stiff form from behind.

"Too late, boy."

The ghost appeared solid, now. The greyishness had given away too truer, deeper colours, to blacks and dark reds; his form had solidified and Tezuka could only stare, mesmerized at the back.

What had been only vaguely outlined before had gained sharp lines. Clothes appeared well-defined, decadently ornamented and fascinatingly ancient. Face and hands too were no longer shapeless grey blobs, only those dark, malicious eyes had remained the same. Tatsunori Ichirou had been revived, more powerful than ever before.

"It's already been done." the ghost announced, having approached the circle wherein Fuji's pale form rested.

Tezuka remained were he stood, frozen to the spot with words of desperate protest stuck in his throat. How to deny a ghost? How to deny, when he didn't even know the truth anymore? How to deny the possibility of death when all appeared too late already?

Couldn't he wake up in his bed once more? Wasn't there another chance to go different about this Saturday? Try again? Restart? Because this couldn't be the end, Fuji couldn't just … disappear here, that just wasn't supposed to happen.

Darkness rose inside of him, tearing at his heart and threatening to overwhelm his senses. He felt faint, the world already blurring in front of his eyes when the ghost leaned down over Fuji's body and said:

"Amane. Wake up."

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it and if you have suggestions or comments, please share them with me.

P.S: Either the next chapter is up before New Years, or – if worst comes to worse – only in the middle of January. But I hope not…


	16. Chapter 16

**Ghost Hunt**

* * *

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Further warnings: focussed entirely on Fuji and Tezuka

Author is no native English speaker (always glad to accept corrections)

Angst

AN: Sorry, sorry, sorry and gomen nasai for not writing review replies this time around – but rest assured, replies will happen (either next chapter or the one after that) and until then reviews are much loved. -

本当にすまなかった。

And now, without further ado, please enjoy!

* * *

**16. Finale Part I**

"Amane. Wake up."

Tezuka's heart stopped.

Tatsunori – had he been a mere mortal – would have been holding his breath like Tezuka did, waiting for something to happen in the deafening silence that filled the spacious room.

Shadows danced as the wind raged on outside, bending trees and creating patterns on dark marble tiles. The candles flickered eerily, white markings glowing a reddish on the floor.

Darkness lingered at the edges of Tezuka's vision, the lack of air made him feel light-headed and faint, but he couldn't close his eyes just yet. He couldn't turn away, horrified and mesmerized as movement came from the prone form in the chamber's centre.

Fuji rose to his knees.

A gesture, so simply and gracefully executed even with a pompous kimono weighting him down. This - he couldn't deny the change – wasn't his friend anymore.

Fuji's movements might usually have been elegant, but Tezuka was certain his friend had little experience with wearing ancient kimonos. Neither how to move like a high-ranked courtesan in the16th century. His friend had been too sick to stand on his own when they'd last seen each other…

And now that….

… that this other person could stand…

… did it mean that…?

Couldn't this just be a nightmare?

"Ichirou"

The voice of Fujiwara Amane spoke, soft, seductive and sensuous. Full of promises, deep and rich and so very, very dark.

"Finally. After four centuries, we'll be granted our wish."

Gracefully rising to her feet, with the kimono around her unfolding like a precious flower, she stepped over to her husband's side. It was easy to believe her words, right now. Even though it was Fuji's body, Tezuka thought he saw unearthly beauty of the kind even females rarely possessed. A smile, unlike any Fuji had ever given lingered on blood-red lips.

She was temptation, one, that even Tezuka had little trouble believing, had caused many a man's downfall. With a voice so smooth and honeyed, so soothing in its intonations and melodious on the surface, holding promises of sinful darkness beneath this surface of breath-taking beauty.

"Amane." Tatsunori Ichirou breathed, reaching out for her hand, even after half a millennium smitten with his beloved's beauty. Demurely, yet with a touch of arrogance she slowly stepped closer, raising her head to meet his gaze. Both spend a long time looking into each other's eyes.

Some obscure conversation went on, because suddenly Amane's smile widened, just a tad more devilish, and Tatsunori ignored conventions and rules and drew her into his arms. It was a lover's gesture, one that made Tezuka stop cold, made confusion roar inside his head again.

"Nothing will come between us now. Nothing, forevermore." Tatsunori vowed, hands wrapped securely around Amane's shoulders, pressing her close to himself. "There is nobody we have to fear, nobody whom we owe loyalty to – it's just us and the world at our feet."

And Tezuka wondered whether it would be right, after all, to separate two reunited lovers. Because, as horrible as their deeds had been, those emotions were pure. Tatsunori Ichirou, he saw, was completely taken by his beloved, not only her beauty, but her soul, her entire being. This all-consuming love he couldn't grasp, he found, not when the idea alone sent shivers down his spine.

… but this was still Fuji somewhere! This body wasn't Fujiwara Amane, had never been and should never be! This was his friend, somewhere, still! They had no right doing what they did, they had no right to destroy lives just for their own happiness!

But they'd done it for each other. Their feelings for each other made the friendly bond between Tezuka and his friend appear like a dust crumb beside a mountain. Those two had continued loving each other even after they'd died, defied nature for each other – while Tezuka hadn't even managed to defy his own rationality. Hell, if emotions played a part – it shouldn't be him standing in this place. He didn't know how to show passion for another human being, didn't understand how to reach out.

Oishi, Kawamura, Momoshirou – anybody wouldn't have faltered here, anybody wouldn't have tried to simply deny the paranormal until he had no choice to do otherwise. Anybody else would have been a better friend –

"Just the two of us, forevermore."

Tatsunori's eyes glimmered darkly in the candlelight, the unholy flickering making Amane giggle sweetly, evilly.

"Ah, there's one promise, darling, I wouldn't mind honouring."

And then she turned to Tezuka with a gleeful, but undeniably beautiful smile. "Ne, Tezuka-kun, don't be so afraid. We wouldn't want you to die an untimely death, not after your friend made us promise to leave you alone."

Tezuka shuddered violently, and while no change of expression overcame his face, he felt desperation gnawing at his insides again. So the ghost hadn't just left him lying down there because he felt like it – his friend had stepped in…

So why, why, why couldn't he do anything in return?

"Fuji…" he muttered, involuntarily. Barely more than a gasp, but the newly revived ghosts heard anyway, recognized his sentiments and started laughing.

"Ah, that's just lovely." Amane tittered cruelly, "Tell me, Tezuka-kun, were the two of you lovers?"

Tezuka's breath caught at the implication. Only a few days ago he would have screamed denial, or simply raised an eyebrow at something like this. Indicating the insinuation was too ridiculous to be worthy of consideration. But now…

Now he wasn't sure what he felt for Fuji. Was it friendship, but if this was friendship, what had they been before? Mere acquaintances? And if it was love, what was it that Tatsunori and Amane shared, then? Did he feel the same for Fuji as his parents felt for each other? Did he …

When no answer was forthcoming, Amane carried on regardless. "My, that would just be too tragic, wouldn't it, darling?"

"Indeed, dear." Tatsunori replied, smirking at Tezuka, "We could help you out, then. Remember, we too were separated by death, but we overcame it. If you loved your friend, if you truly loved him as much as he cared for you, you'll kill yourself now. And when you wake up a ghost you need to collect 66 souls and a vessel to revive your beloved."

"Maybe we could even help you with the souls." Amane added cheerfully, "Tatsunori has some experience there. And really, Fuji-kun was such a dear and cooperated without trouble after we promised to leave you alone, that, you I know, I feel like we ought to help you."

Darkness was dancing invitingly in front of Tezuka's eyes, while mind felt caught in an endless spiral of madness. He couldn't believe what he was hearing, couldn't accept what he was seeing, couldn't figure out what he was feeling …

"THIS ENDS HERE!"

The yell from a new voice cut through the air like an ice-cold blade, freeing Tezuka's mind from its cage of insanity, restoring hope to the situation. A cold wind blew into the old chamber, bringing a hint of rain and damp leaves and he could barely make out Fuji Yumiko's silhouette against the doorframe.

"You!" Amane hissed, whirling around with flying sleeves. Tatsunori drew himself up, demandingly.

"Who do you think you are?!"

Head held high, Yumiko marched into the room as if she feared nothing. By all rights, she shouldn't have looked that impressive in her beige coat and Tezuka shouldn't have felt that much relieve. The catastrophe was far from over and he the world was still spinning far too fast. His heart still pounded like mad.

Yumiko shot the two figures in the centre only a flat glare, looking entirely unimpressed. It astonished Tezuka to see her that cool now, when she'd been fretting about the ghost's incredible strength previously.

"Stop this now, you two, or face the consequences."

Something had changed. This woman wasn't the Fuji Yumiko Tezuka knew. Not the gently smiling sister who'd make raspberry pie for her siblings. He'd heard that commanding voice before…

"Hahaha, what are you saying, foolish mortal?" Amane tittered, voice high and brittle, "Your powers are nothing!"

Yumiko didn't stop her approach and Amane actually stepped backwards. Tatsunori Ichirou however held his ground, looking like a samurai about to draw his sword.

"Woman! Have you forgotten who we are? The ceremony has been completed! There is nothing to stop anymore! This can not be undone!"

"Fool you are, then." Yumiko whispered and Tezuka caught sight of her pale, drawn face. He swallowed, feeling utterly useless and terribly afraid. Darkness was sparkling in Yumiko's eyes too, the same darkness he'd seen in Tatsunori's eyes earlier. There was raw power emitting from her small form, power that seemed oppressive within the walls of the suddenly far too small chamber.

"You can not harm us!" Amane screeched, suddenly not laughing anymore but half-panicked, "You're just a human! You can't harm us!"

"Can't I?" Yumiko asked, smiling sweetly, dangerously. Tezuka shuddered as the air around them thickened with something unknown, but terribly grand. The candles flickered irregularly, and the darkness increased.

"You know what we are!" Tatsunori exclaimed, "We are no mere immortals! We have surpassed demons!"

"Demons." Yumiko snorted, sounding as arrogant and cold as Amane had done minutes earlier. Her smile turned evil.

"Demons. There is more to this than demons, have you forgotten? And here, in this realm, there is nothing that can't be undone."

Tezuka shivered. Coldness had long since numbed his toes – he'd fall if he lost his balance, h had absolutely no control over his limbs. He'd fall into the darkness, maybe never to wake up again…

"Your brother is dead!" Amane screamed.

"Is he?" Yumiko smiled, a terrible gesture lacking any hint of compassion or concern. As if it wasn't her brother Amane was talking about. As if she was just an unconcerned bystander who decided to intervene for personal amusement.

"To you maybe. But as long as Tezuka-kun refuses to believe it his soul lingers."

Tezuka, for the first time this night, felt hope sparking within him. He had …? Confusion rose, almost completely overcoming him, but he fought the fainting spell at the last minute. He had believed? It had been his doing that…

Fuji was still alive?! Things could be restored, brought into their right order again? Fuji wasn't lost yet? All because he'd clung onto one promise, unwilling to give up until he'd had absolute certainty?

"You don't have the power to undo this!" Tatsunori shouted, trying to heighten his presence, to make himself grander than Yumiko. And while he might have been taller than her, broader and stronger, he had nothing on her in terms of spiritual powers. A raindrop against an entire ocean.

Where he emitted strength and stature, Yumiko's powers held no boundaries, were formless, raw and all-consuming. Tearing through flesh and mortar alike, untamed and beyond any scale.

"This may not be my own power." Yumiko admitted undisturbed, "But have you forgotten who regularly grants me her powers? Have you truly not seen in whose stead I speak?"

Tatsunori flinched violently, with Amane already half-hiding behind his back, her hands clutching at his arm in fear.

Yumiko laughed, high, cold and arrogant. "Who fears demons when wielding the power of gods?"

And her eyes reflected a darkness that wasn't natural anymore.

Tezuka's eyes widened in shock, he felt his knees weakening. This really wasn't Fuji Yumiko, hell, the one he knew hadn't even looked this… this insane, possessed, beyond everything on this planet, be it good or evil at their séance. She hadn't …

Was this the true extend of her gift? Or was this already something else? Had she lost of control somewhere along the way, given in into a maelstrom of power?

"Oh my…" Amane gasped, white-faced, barely holding herself upright. Just for second, Tezuka could recognize Fuji's features shining through. The paleness, the weakness …

"Who are you?!" Tatsunori demanded vehemently, but he couldn't keep his voice from trembling. Tezuka in his stead would have run – only, that from this there was no escape.

A dark smile on Yumiko's lips.

"Oh, I believe you know my name. Fuji Yumiko, or are you asking for something else?"

She was still herself? Was this truly her power?

No reply was forthcoming and the shadows grew. Tezuka stood still, praying he wouldn't be caught in the crossfire.

"Or are you asking for the name of the one whose powers I wield? The one of many names?"

Another step forward, the clacking of high heeled shoes echoed like a gunshot through the clammy room.

"That one has been called many names – Fortuna, Skuld, Destiny – but what is a name after all? A name won't tell you anything if you don't understand this power yet."

"You're power isn't to change history!" Tatsunori roared in helpless protest, his face displaying all those emotions Tezuka had felt earlier. "You're only the one who foresees the future, Fuji Yumiko! You're not the one to rewrite fate!"

"And yet I can."

"For what price?!" Amane screamed, leaning forward, her expression desperate and twisted. "It's going to kill you! Maim you! She'll never give her powers for free! She'll have your soul! You can't! You can't!"

"I know the powers I wield well enough to understand what I am doing." Yumiko replied, face grave and determined, yet with darkness sparkling in her eyes, "To understand what I can do and what I can't. To understand what I have to do."

The corners of her lips twitched upwards. Tezuka shuddered.

"You'll die for nothing!" Tatsunori Ichirou declared, pale-faced yet with conviction.

Yumiko's face darkened.

"I do not fear death." She replied evenly. "Neither the devil nor the darkness. The consequences do not scare me. I'll accept them. No matter what they are."

"YOU'RE INSANE!" Amane screeched hysterically and Yumiko laughed.

Tezuka wondered for a split second whether he ought to step in and save Yumiko's life, stop her from whatever she was about to commit – if it scared ghosts, if it scared those who had already died, it had to be beyond horrible. And then Yumiko gestured with her right hand, a mere flick of the wrist, but …

"YOU ARE..:." Tatsunori roared and all of a sudden reality shattered. As if it had been a picture strung on frail paper, suddenly torn into pieces. Ripping apart in the middle and …

And then there was nothing.

* * *

… Or?

Tezuka blinked, confused, willing the fog over his eyes to lift. But the scene remained unchanged, marble tiles decorated with ancient runes, flickering candles and long shadows.

Had anything happened at all?

He could hear the wind howling outside again; louder even than the pounding of his own, desperately confused heart. The rustling of dead leaves, the evergreen's branches bending and groaning – nothing had changed.

Nothing…

All remained the same…

Only Fuji Yumiko wasn't standing or speaking anymore. Instead, her body rested unmoving on the cold ground amid flickering candles. No sign of life… Drawing a sharp breath, Tezuka tore his gaze away, dreading to find his worst fears affirmed.

Tatsunori Ichirou and Fuiwara Amane in the chamber's centre, pale-faced and trembling, holding onto each other. But they'd won, hadn't they?

Everything had played out to their success in the end, hadn't it?

Ice slowly crawled through Tezuka's veins, uncomfortably freezing the thin layer of sweat covering his skin. Goosebumps rose on his forearms, the dreadful sensation of wrongness sent his head spinning.

Something was horribly, horribly wrong.

Darkness rose from inside of him, his vision started to blur until he could only barely make out Amane's and Tatsunori's fear-stricken faces exchanging worried glances. Too dizzy to wonder at their behaviour, he could only helplessly gasp for breath; his mind still struggling to cope with the situation.

Had they really lost?

Had the ghosts won?

Was Fuji dead for good?

Was he dead at all?

Was…?

Why had Yumiko collapsed just like this, what had she done, what was it she had been talking about to scare the ghosts like this, what had her threat been, what could she have done, what had his own part in all this been, and, was there still a chance, only the smallest, the tiniest of all chances to save his friend?

Could this still come to a happy ending?

Could he maybe, one day, sit down comfortably on his couch, sigh, and think back on this day without a bitter tang of regret, but of a challenge mastered? Of a very, very bad – nightmarish – day they'd survived?

But the scenery in front of his eyes made mockery of his trembling body's dearest desire.

It was the ghosts, standing upright. Fujiwara Amane's soul in Fuji's body. And Fuji Yumiko unconscious or worse on the ground, only a few steps away from them. Whatever she had done would, perhaps, forever remain a mystery.

There was no movement from her body, no sense of live to her still form. Should he fear the worst?

Where had that chance gone she'd been talking about? Where had everything gone so horridly wrong?

A sudden gasp drew Tezuka from his jumbled thoughts.

Amane's sorrow-filled eyes were fixed on Tatsunori's rapidly greying face, her hands clutching his desperately and when she spoke her voice – while still so frighteningly, honeyed and smooth – trembled.

"Ichirou…"

… they'd won, hadn't they?

"Ichirou…"

… so if they'd won, why were they…

… why did Amane look so heart-wrenchingly unhappy?

"Your hands are cold."

* * *

AN2: Next chapter will – hopefully – be up within the next two weeks. Moooooore drama!

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it and if you have suggestions or comments, please share them with me.


	17. Chapter 17

**Ghost Hunt**

* * *

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Further warnings: focussed entirely on Fuji and Tezuka

Author is no native English speaker (always glad to accept corrections)

Angst

As for reviews:

Valeriana-kun: Ehehehe… I hope you still managed on your Physics test (believe me, I know that kind of situation just too well myself). Anyways, hope you didn't wait too long for the rest (which, hopefully, is to your likening, too)!

Speadee: There is more indeed… it just might take a while, until all explanations will be done (now, that Yumiko is out and the ghosts seem to have other worries on their mind). Still, I hope the next too chapter will at least clarify a little more…

A1y-puff: About what Yumiko did… well, there's a short explanation in the following two chapters, even though that might not suffice. Otherwise, explanations will follow after the Finale. And yep, Finale is three parts, after that follows more or less the wind-down (which, however might be another four chapters or something like that…)

Sango Hikari: Here goes another chapter… or rather two. Though, Fuji's fate still hangs in limbo. But, I hope things begin to clear up slowly from now on. The major explanations however will have to wait until after the showdown (and maybe even longer…)

StarDancer1234: Here we go with another update. Hope you didn't wait too long – and that the wait was worth it. Considering there'll be only few explanations, but a lot of (melo-)drama…

Jadeskye79: Glad to know this story can still win over new readers. (and keep them -). Hope you'll enjoy the next two chapters two.

Yoshikochan: Ganbatte Tezuka! … honestly, writing his character in this kind of situations was quite a challenge... in the end he only came out very, very confused (which, considering the circumstances, however is quite normal). And don't worry about Yumiko – she's made of thougher stuff!

And because this is late and long and I didn't write review replies the last time, voila, behold a rare two-chapter update. Hope you like it!

* * *

**16. Finale II**

Tatsunori Ichirou raised his head slowly, disbelief sparkling in his eyes. Carefully, gently, he pressed Amane's delicate white hands, holding onto them as he desperately clung to their now fast-fading fragile dreams.

Their victory had been short-lived.

And yet…

"Amane…"

"Ichirou… no. No!"

Tezuka could only watch in mesmerized desperation. Head spinning, gasping for breath like he had just run a marathon, incapable of taking just one step forward. Darkness lurked invitingly at the corner's of his vision, tempting him, calling out.

To close his eyes, to leave this scene, this world where reason and logic failed, where the paranormal was common and fiction became reality. Close his eyes and pray to wake up safe and warm in his bed, wake up to the beeping of his alarm clock.

To open his eyes to see the sun just peaking over the horizon outside. A new day. An ordinary day. A day where Fuji'd gently smile at him, like he always did.

A sudden stab of pain in his chest, and Tezuka gasped and abruptly looked up. There, behind Yumiko's crumpled, motionless body his blurred vision came upon the two perpetrators.

Those two who where completely lost in each other, disregarding the outside world, disregarding the consequences of their actions, ruthlessly; cold-blooded murderers… for a moment white-hot fury welled up in him, tearing at his sanity, raging through his mind like a fire storm, conjuring up the worst damnations to befall those two.

It was their fault!

Everything!

Everything!

Belatedly Tezuka realized that tears were burning in his eyes, threatening to overflow. And when he tried to blink them away, to swallow that sudden bout of unparalleled, helpless rage, his eyes fastened on the forsaken couple once again.

Amid twilight, a few remaining flickering candles and the grand, wide French windows, Tezuka saw Fuji.

Not Fujiwara Amane.

This was still Fuji Syusuke's body, and as long as that body was warm and breathing he refused to believe that Fuji was dead.

Because…

Because death wasn't supposed to happen on ordinary November nights. Death wasn't supposed to happen to ordinary fourteen year old boys… but so was possession. And everything else that played out right in front of his eyes.

And it certainly was not Fuji Syusuke raising his hand so elegantly, with wide silk sleeves swinging like butterfly wings in the darkness, to touch that grey, ghastly cold cheek so affectionately. Who smiled such a grievously beautiful smile, with darkness flickering brightly in his eyes.

"Ichirou."

And darkness once more waved to Tezuka, promising sweet relief from desperation. And end to this confusion. Oblivion. And then…

"We can still…"

As hauntingly beautiful word ghosted across cold marble, and the world teetered one the edge of destruction, a deep, croaking groan carried abruptly through the darkness.

Suddenly, all motions stopped. The pair, that just had been completely engrossed in themselves, whirled around, heads shooting up with fear painted brightly upon them.

A breeze of cold air washed into the room, fresh and icy.

Tezuka froze. Not daring to move or even to breath, half-praying for the darkness just to take him over, and yet he couldn't keep his eyes from straying to his right. Where in the dim light, he could just make out the great, oak door moving slowly.

As if moving by itself, the door opened, bit by bit. Each painful centimetre more only revealed glaring blackness.

There was nothing behind the door. Complete, black nothingness.

A shudder ran down Tezuka's spine.

Nothing?

Was that door really moving by itself?

The sound of rustling leaves carried inside; trembling and glittering in the cold, humid air. Hushed through the room, echoed and the candle flames danced merrily along to the haunting melody.

Amid that dance of shadows, the door opened only a quarter, then stopped, as mysteriously as its movements had begun.

Tezuka slowly dared to breath.

A hand reached out.

One white, ghastly white hand suddenly shot out from the penetrating darkness of the corridor, reached out to flickering flames and dancing shadows; small, delicate and almost transparent.

Tezuka's heart stopped.

Tiny fingers bend around the thick wooden frame.

Outside, the wind died down. Noises faded, and absolute silence descended over the room. A suffocating stillness settled down, heavy and oppressive.

And then a curious face emerged from the darkness. Barely taller than the door's handle, skin whiter than white and wide, innocent eyes blinked into the twilight.

"Mother?"

His blood had suddenly turned to ice. He couldn't breath, couldn't think clearly, and yet…

Yet, even while he logically, somewhere in dark, far-away corner of his mind, where reason still existed, knew, that he had never in his life seen this face before…

Yet he still recognized her.

Instinctively, he knew who this child peering around a half-opened door was. The ghastly pale skin, those hopeful eyes – those eyes lacked every sparkled.

Amane gasped. Or was it a cough, forced upon her form by the body's prior condition?

Yet Tezuka couldn't tear his eyes away; he kept starring in dumbfounded fascination, as the small ghost looked up at him.

It was a girl, as he had known. A girl, who couldn't be older than six, with well-kept long hair, and entirely translucent and dead. So very, very dead.

For a moment confusion crossed her small face, perhaps caused by Tezuka's own horrified expression. Yet, undaunted by this stranger's frightened grimace, she turned farther, looking inquisitively for the cause.

"… she…" barely a whisper, yet it carried through the dead silence of the room louder than thunder. Amane's eyes were wide, wide and fearful and desperate.

The girl's eyes finally came upon the couple standing in front of those huge French windows offering a mesmerizing view of glittering black leaves under an even darker night sky. A small gasp escaped from her lips.

Tezuka saw her eyes widening in fear.

Tatsunori Ichirou hissed. "So that…"

Grimly starring at the small ghost, his grey features twisted. "That's what that woman did."

And those words did nothing to reassure Tezuka's frantically pounding heart or to assuage the darkness swirling in his mind, threatening to overwhelm it once and for all.

"Ichirou." Amane whispered, but her voice was deep and melodious again, dark and lacking it's former, breathless, scared quality. "We can … undo this, can't we?"

Ruthless determination carried in her words. The little ghost bit her lip nervously, and Tezuka unconsciously willed her to turn back and run. This…

"We can undo what she did."

This was getting worse, wasn't it?

"We can undo it." Fujiwara Amane drew herself up smoothly and cast a disdainful glare at Fuji Yumiko's body a few metres away. There was no sign of life from the still form, yet Tezuka didn't dare to run up and confirm his worst fears.

Amane's eyes were sparkling maliciously once more, as even Tatsunori held his breath, completely bewitched by her unearthly beauty.

"It won't need much." Amane purred. "Not much at all. To think we were that scared by such a foolish attempt at thwarting our plans – we'll laugh about it when we remember. But how desperate must she have been to give up her life just to pull one soul out of the equation… Pitiful, really."

And then she stepped forward, head held high and a dark smile playing on blood-red lips. She seemed to be floating more than walking, her kimono glittering beautifully in the light of the flickering candle flames. Golden threads sparkled like fireflies, silk swished and her white skin practically glowed in the darkness.

"We'll only need to return this one soul to the equation. Return it, and nothing will harm us anymore!"

The small ghost gasped, eyes wide with fear.

"You…" she breathed, voice trembling. "You…"

Tezuka watched her stepping back, watching Amane match her every step, and wondered whether this was still really happening, or whether unconscious had long since claimed his mind and he was now only caught in a cruel nightmare.

"You…" once again, but that quavering hand was not pointing at Amane's darkly smiling visage, but past her. Past Amane's delicate shoulder at Tatsunori Ichirou's grey face.

"You are that man… On that day…"

Her voice trailed off. That small, shivering hand dropped back to her side. Numb with fear, it seemed, she simply stopped moving at all. Wide-eyed awaiting her fate, awaiting death for a second time…

And something within Tezuka snapped.

He understood that the world wasn't fair, that cruelty happened, that good didn't necessarily triumph. But yet… maybe he was still a child at heart, maybe he just hadn't lived long enough to let go of that foolish notion of having to make things alright. Maybe he just wasn't jaded enough to stand by and watch while others suffered.

But no, not now, he wouldn't watch this girl die for a second time. He wouldn't simply stand by while those two had their way, he wouldn't step aside anymore. Because really, what did he have to loose?

His life?

Tezuka felt hysterical laughter welling up in his chest, yet his face didn't budge an inch. Really, fear for his life – was so absurd, considering that he was about the only living person currently in the vicinity.

That small girl was a ghost, killed only two days ago, drowned in the lake, summoned there by grey-faced Tatsunori Ichirou, who, all things considered, looked more like his ghostly self again. Fujiwara Amane, proudly standing in the middle of the half-lighted room, was pale as death – alive in a body that wasn't hers, a body that formerly had housed his friend's precious soul… there was no telling what had actually happened to Fuji.

And Yumiko, prone on the ground, appeared dead.

Swallowing against the bitterness constricting his throat, Tezuka forced his body forward.

"No." he declared, firm and stern as he ordered laps on the court.

Three pair of eyes immediately rested on him, shocked, confused or plainly annoyed, he couldn't tell – it felt like needles piercing through his skin. He would have given up at once, self-preservation instincts flailing in desperation, howling at him to retreat, but when he recalled the alternative, the world he would succumb to…

No.

If stepping back meant Yumiko had died in vain, meant giving Fuji up for dead, meant letting this child die a second time, meant letting those two have their way – no, he wouldn't let that happen. As long as he had breath in his lungs, he wouldn't.

Because, what kind of a world would it be, what kind of a life could he hope to lead, with the death of two people on his consciences. Of regretting not having lifted a finger when he could have saved Fuji's life?

What kind of a life would it be without Fuji's gently smile?

Regardless of what reason was telling him, regardless of prudence, Tezuka decided he did not want to know. Either he'd try and succeed and everything would be alright, or he'd die trying.

But he wouldn't back down here.

With grim determination he stepped between Fujiwara Amane and the girl.

"What kind of foolishness is this?" she asked, turning her nose up at his unexpected appearance. Tatsunori drew up to her, frowning as if deep in thought.

"I won't let it happen." Tezuka bravely declared, even though his knees felt weak. Biting his dry lip, he cast an imploring look at the girl over his shoulder.

"Run!" he hissed and she stumbled backwards.

Fujiwara Amane's eyes narrowed. Her smile sharpened, even as she wiped at her mouth before elegantly raising her hand to unplug another golden hairpin.

"Are you offering your own soul, then?"

His breath caught. Eyes widening dramatically at the sight of Amane's blood-stained lips quirking upwards in a wicked smile, it took all his will-power not to flee. Scared to death of the pin glinting evilly in glow of flickering flames, Tezuka bit his lip and remained rooted to the spot.

"It is well." Amane purred seductively, eyes sparkling merrily, "Your soul will be just as good as a replacement for the one ripped out of the equation. Your…"

And suddenly, unexpectedly she faltered. Her floating steps came to halt, she hunched over as wet coughs sent her body trembling. Harsh, cruel and unrelenting, painful coughs wrecking the slim body and when she finally raised her head once more, fresh blood glittered on her lips.

"Amane…" Tatsunori whispered, a worried frown twisting his features into an unfamiliar expression.

Angrily she wiped at her mouth, but a spark of fear glittered underneath the determination in her eyes.

"We need to get this over with." She declared unimpressed, her eyes once more coming to rest on Tezuka's shaking form, "With every minute that passes with the spell incomplete this body will continue to weaken. I won't…"

Amane raised the hairpin again, while Tatsunori watched her with a frown from the sidelines, perhaps worried about her body's condition.

"O-ni-chan!"

Breathless, Tezuka dared to look away from the approaching demon, throwing a panicked glare back over his shoulder.

There, at the end of the black corridor, almost as if she glowing, stood the little girl. The small ghost's eyes were wide, frightened, but serious. She waved at Tezuka again.

"O-ni-chan! Come! This way!"

…what?

Amane coughed violently behind his back, and Tezuka stared in dumbfounded incomprehension at the girl beckoning him away and into the darkness. What was her aim? What did she intend to do, where did she want to lead him? What…

"Amane…" Tatsunori Ichirou said, suddenly, voice grave as if something troublesome was happening.

Tezuka whirled around, hearing a swish of heavy silk just behind his back, and found himself face to face with Fujiwara Amane. White-faced, with blood staining the sleeves of her kimono. And the golden hairpin glittering threateningly overhead.

He gasped, stumbling backwards, just as she brought it down violently.

Coughing, she teetered forward, still elegant, but grotesquely so.

"Come, o-ni-chan! Hurry!"

Not daring to take his eyes of the demon this time, Tezuka took another step back. Away from this room, out of this nightmare – out of this, before it claimed his life, too.

"Why are you running away?" Amane cooed, voice raspy and full of darkness, "Are you afraid, Tezuka-kun? Are you afraid of death?"

Dizziness swamped him, a sudden sense of vertigo almost entirely shattered his vision and nausea rose from his stomach. Tezuka tore his eyes away from the creature approaching. This wasn't Fuji anymore, there were no traces of the gentle being he called friend left in this … this monster.

"Where do you think you are going, Tezuka-kun?" he heard Amane call behind his back, voice barely carrying over his pounding heart, the swish of silk far too close for comfort.

"Don't you want to be together with your sweetheart?"

Darkness, darkness, everywhere. Only the small ghost ahead, a bizarre beacon of light leading him away, out of this candle-lit confusion, out, to where the ice cold wind of November was blowing, out.

"This way!"

He didn't know whether his footsteps or his heart pounded louder. Couldn't tell whether this darkness was natural or the consequence of dizziness, the lack of oxygen in his aching lungs. The only thing he recognized where the pain tearing his heart into small pieces, the fear screaming at his instincts to run faster, not to mind the shadow gliding behind him, not to listen to that monster's words.

"Don't you love him?"

Because she was, she was so frighteningly, heart-wrenchingly right. Hadn't he sworn to protect his friend, hadn't he sworn to try everything, hadn't he…? Could he return to a life without Fuji by his side, but his death on his conscience? Could he?

"O-ni-chan! Here!"

Even as his feet hit soft ground instead of old wood, even as the cold wind picked up his sweat-soaked hair, cooling his heated forehead, even as the rustling of dry leaves became so much clearer to his blurred senses, his heart was screaming at him to stop, to turn around and just to…

… to …

Face the demon behind him? Give up or fight? Fight her, as he heard her coughing again, slowed down by those heavy clothes taking their toll on Fuji's delicate condition.

"Why do you run?" Amane gasped, her voice brittle and hoarse, yet wet with unknown liquid. Tezuka shuddered, distantly remembering how sick Fuji had been, wondered, if his life still could be saved, or whether…

"Does he mean nothing to you?"

It hurt as if his heart was being torn into pieces, and he squeezed his eyes shut to stop the tears from falling. He wanted to save his friend, hell, he'd give up his own life –

- yet, if there was no chance, if his own death would accomplish nothing but bring more sadness to people he loved, if everything would only mean more pain for those that he wanted to see laughing, those he wanted to see happy…

A memory of Fuji's gentle smile rose in his mind.

'Forgive me.' He mentally pleaded, wishing with all his might that Fuji might somehow receive his sentiments, even if his failure was unforgivable. Inexcusable.

Raising his head to face the cold air outside, he instantly recognized the place where his feet had carried him. Hushed noises, the rustling of dry leaves, the wind tearing playfully at his clothes and hair and soft ground muffling his footfalls.

* * *

That much for part two! Please tell me what you think about it … or read the next chapter first and tell me then! 


	18. Chapter 18

**Ghost Hunt**

* * *

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Further warnings: focussed entirely on Fuji and Tezuka

Author is no native English speaker (always glad to accept corrections)

Angst

And now, without further ado, onward to the last part of the Finale!

* * *

**16. Finale III**

"O-ni-san." The ghost girl had stopped at the pond's shoreline. Her white skin glowing within the dark night, illuminating the soft grass underneath her feet, the long, softly swaying tree branches behind her.

Behind her small form, the water glittered eerily in this moonless night.

Tezuka stopped, not even feeling his heart's frantic pounding anymore. The blood rushing in his ears had given away to the feeling of darkness surging up within his own chest and fear constricting his lungs painfully.

She had led him back. Back to the place where she had died.

And it all left his mind so terrifyingly, utterly blank. He didn't understand the implications, hell, he'd stopped understanding what happened already hours ago. Yet his logical mind had struggled, carried on through the disaster inside, barely survived the confrontation – but now…

There was maybe a spark of realization still buried deep in his mind, but already this shard was to horrifying, to ominous to be brought to the forefront and considered.

And he still didn't know what to do.

"Will you follow her into the water?" a smooth voice suddenly purred behind him, blending perfectly with the tranquil movement of the ancient willow's branches that were gently touching the water's surface.

"Will you follow her and die?"

Amane stood a few steps away. A beautiful flower among black, thorny bushes.

"Die, cold and alone?"

Her face was pale, paler than before, Tezuka could tell, yet it had lost nothing of its initial beauty. Fujiwara Amane gestured more elegant than ever, a hand reaching gently out in his direction, and the wide sleeve swinging like a rare butterfly's richly ornamented wing.

"With your love forever…"

And abruptly, she faltered.

Tezuka's eyes widened, instinctively he wanted to reach out, seeing Fuji bending over for a split second, yet managed to reign himself in the last instant.

Instead, he watched wide-eyed, as Fujiwara Amane turned her face away to cough. That small hand reached up to wipe at her lips was shaking badly and came away stained with glittering red.

And somehow, for some illogical, indescribable reason his formerly frozen heart started aching.

"Tezuka-kun…" Amane whispered, uncharacteristically gentle. Her face was strained, but her eyes glittered with thousands of unvoiced emotions.

"Don't choose such a lonely fate. Don't…"

She struggled for words and Tezuka could hear each laboured breath as the wind died down. Silence settled, grave and oppressing, even as he blinked as moisture began blurring his own vision.

"Don't make us all die for nothing, Tezuka-kun!"

Dark, beseeching, entrancing and yet sparkling with untainted emotions, Amane's eyes bored into his own, pleading for an understanding he wasn't capable of.

His eyes were fixed in horrified fascination at the blood staining the edge of her lips, blood, that slowly before his eyes began to trickle downwards even without further coughing.

This meant…

She was swaying when she took the next step forward. Soft, moist grass swallowed every sound, only a soft rustling of her clothes; the pounding of his aching heart and her heaving breath broke the absolute stillness.

"Tezuka-kun, if you understand love, if you really loved that boy, if you really loved him, don't let this have happened in vain. Don't forsake all of us!"

Amane reached out, her hand only a hair's breathe away from his shoulder. He could feel the warmth radiating from her body, feverish and throbbing. Her gasps forming small, white clouds in the icy darkness.

"Don't!" she whispered, and Tezuka saw tears gleaming in her eyes. Heart-wrenchingly real tears of true desperation. Now matter how sugar-coated her voice might have been only minutes ago, how malicious and cruel her laughter – now, all Tezuka saw, was the human being. Not the demon.

But a human, who only longed for the most human thing a heart could ever desire – love.

Just as he himself.

It was the last wish left in his upset heart. He'd given up all the notions of saving everybody long ago, conceded his own powerlessness the first time he'd confronted the ghost. And when the little girl had died and everything had taken a drastic turn for the worse, all he could pray for was a happy ending. Somehow, somewhat, a happy ending for everybody involved.

But now, that the ghosts had succeeded with their ceremony, that he had left Fuji Yumiko for dead on the cold marble floor, that the one he had wanted to protect at all costs was perhaps already lost – all that he had left was to cling onto those frail, fleeting feelings.

And if somehow, somehow he could make things alright again…

… he'd do it in a second.

Even if it cost his life.

Tezuka slowly raised his head, Amane's sorrow reflected in his own eyes. 'Go on.' He willed her silently, with his body slowly growing numb from the cold, 'Go on.'

… because in a night that cold and dark, with his heart already torn to shreds and his most precious person lost to the darkness, death didn't scare him anymore.

Amane smiled. An honest, radiant smile expressing a sentiment deeper than gratitude, displaying a previously unknown degree of gratitude.

And then she closed the gap.

One step forward, cold metal glinted for a split second in the tranquil night and then Tezuka felt a warm body pressing up to his own. Felt that thin chest heaving with each painfully drawn breath, felt numbness spreading from his own stomach.

Her smile was so radiant; he didn't want to take his eyes away. Didn't want to look down, to where hot-blood suddenly was trickling from his body.

He felt so numb. Only his breath forming small white clouds in the dark night air told him of the coldness surrounding them. Only the sensation of hot liquid soaking through his clothes …

And yet there was no pain. A faint onset of dizziness; but he couldn't even tell if his heart was beating faster than before. If he hadn't been gasping for air before.

"You're a good boy, Tezuka-kun." Amane whispered, still leaning against him, with hand, still clutching the pin, hanging limply at her side. Her smile was strained, and the pain obviously reflected in her eyes, "You…"

She choked abruptly. Tezuka could feel her body shuddering, saw the golden, now blood-stained hairpin slip out of her cold, cold fingers.

His vision suddenly blurred. Somewhere, very, very distant, he was struck with a flash of blinding pain. Holding his breath, he unconsciously put a hand on his stomach. And found the horrifying realization that had already set off the alarm bells in his head verified.

The entire front of his sweater was soaked. Soaked and frighteningly warm, and he could feel even more liquid trickling over his fingers.

… was he going to soon?

The panic rising up in his mind was suffocated before even a clear thought could form, Amane's soft voice – suddenly so much like Fuji's again – cut through the fog.

"Why?"

She whispered, her entire body trembling.

"Why isn't it working?"

Desperation and confusion glittered in her eyes, silently pleading for an answer that Tezuka couldn't give. No matter how frantically the wheels in his mind where turning, no matter how the sight of unshed tears sparkling in her eyes moved his heart, he remained unable to answer.

Breathless and helpless to stop his own confusion, to stop the time that was slipping away, quietly like sand, like the blood trickling from his stomach. His mind was screaming, screeching in terror; this was his life, slowly running through his fingers.

And yet the night remained quiet and undisturbed. The lake's surface calm behind them, reflecting their silhouettes as one, the willow's long branches swaying softly, and grey fog rose to surround the two.

Was this his vision fading?

Was this the end?

Tezuka's heart trembled, too many thoughts racing to his mind to form a clear one, bursting from pain, regret and countless, terrifyingly countless other emotions.

But the greyness took no notice of his struggle. Its growth continued, not giving Tezuka time to calm his soul, not granting him even a minute to regain a semblance of equilibrium.

"Amane!"

For a split second he wondered whether he was seeing things. Maybe the blood loss was graver than expected, maybe this was only his struggling brain trying to compensate for his failing vision… maybe everything had gone to his head and he was losing his mind together with his life now.

But the form arising out of the fog was no unfamiliar face. Grey-face as he had first seen him, his limps only vaguely defined shapes of darker-than-usual fog, Tatsunori Ichirou appeared at their side.

His feature's, pale and instable as they were, showed sorrow and frustration. Lips drawn into a firm line, yet his eyes still appeared suspiciously soft as his gaze focused on Amane's shivering form.

"Amane." His voice was…. dejected, disappointed, relieved, angry and glad at ones. So many nuances to one word, so many meanings to one whispered name.

"Ichirou…" horrified disbelief painted her face even whiter, "…what is happening?"

Her left hand, still resting on Tezuka's shoulder, trembled like a leaf in an autumn storm. Her breath came in gasps, and it was obvious that even the multi-layered kimono didn't protect her from the cold any longer.

There was no type of clothing to ward off this type of cold. The ice that made blood freeze, that crept through veins, slowly squeezing the life out of every limp, closing in around the heart… and then, when everything else was already dead, lost and forever destroyed, the heart, too, would freeze. Freeze and shatter into a milliard tiny pieces.

"Shouldn't you be…" Amane choked, eyes pained and frantically searching her beloved for a sign of that this wasn't true, that this wasn't happening, that they were being granted their happy ending after all, "Why are we like this? Shouldn't we be…?"

He only shook his head, slowly and regretfully. "The spell…"

"The spell is complete!" Amane interrupted suddenly, in a pretence of fury to cover her growing desperation. "No matter what that girl did, the 66 souls are complete!"

"Yes." Tatsunori replied in a choked voice "Yes, we have 66 souls."

"She might have ripped one from the equation, but I found a replacement!" Amane declared loudly, challenging the scene reality showed her.

"Yes." Tatsunori agreed quietly, and pain-filled eyes strayed over to Tezuka. "But you took him as a replacement."

Tezuka suddenly felt like falling. Any thoughts concerning his injury were gone, blow away, only him and a black abyss in front of his feet left, and he wasn't sure whether he wasn't already tumbling downwards.

"The only person we weren't allowed to touch."

Amane's eyes widened dramatically, drawing a shocked gasp, she whipped around, almost falling over in the process, her eyes searching Tezuka's face.

"…no…"

Was the fog lifting? Were Tatsunori's limbs slowly but certainly growing transparent? Was… what was happening?

"The condition under which we were granted a vessel… the only condition binding us… was not to hurt that boy."

Frozen stiff from the chill, Tezuka barely even dared to breath. Only the hot liquid trickling slowly from his stomach told him he was still alive. But with his vision darkening, and his heart fluttering madly, he didn't know what to believe anymore. … maybe he was hallucinating, maybe everything was…

A dream?

"Amane." Tatsunori whispered, face sad, but there was a gentle expression lingering on it as his eyes rested on Amane's frail form.

"It's over." For a moment he gazed around, taking in the darkness, the undisturbed surface of the water, the tall, bending willow trees, the soft grass underneath.

… he was saying goodbye…

"For good." And then, with a heart-wrenchingly warm smile he reached out, cupping Amane's cold cheek with a grey, vaguely hand-shaped limb.

"Amane. This time…"

Had he been human, he'd have been crying.

"Let's go together."

Before the tears glittering in her eyes could spill over, Amane blinked slowly, once, twice, then drawing a deep breath to still the tremors cursing through her body even if only for a moment.

"Yes." She replied, a brilliant smile on her face. "Yes. Let's go together."

For a moment her face seemed to glow in the darkness, more beautiful and enchanting than before, a smile more radiant than the sun and Tezuka felt warmth creep back into his frozen heart, felt a numb pulse drum within the depths of his stomach, felt hot tears prickling in the corners of his eyes.

The fog was almost completely translucent now. Tatsunori's face began losing its contours, his feet had long since gone and by now he was no more than a speck of a grey cloud left hanging in an icy cold night, condemned to fade completely.

… and yet, his eyes, fixed on his beloved's breath-taking smile, were happy.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

And then, they were gone.

Tezuka blinked, surprised, as the mist abruptly disappeared. Amane – no, Fuji – crumpled abruptly, no spirit left keeping his weakened body standing. Instinctively Tezuka reached out, catching his friend by the shoulder.

The sudden motion send a shudder down his spine, tore slightly at his shoulder, but everything faded to nothing, when compared to the white-hot stab of pain that attacked his stomach.

Gasping, but unable to draw breath, with black spots dancing in front of his vision, he sunk to his knees. Desperately clenching his teeth, he kept his hold on Fuji, refusing to let go, even if the pain was blinding him.

Limp like a doll Fuji fell into his lap. Head lolling back, soft brown hair fanning out over Tezuka's blood-soaked coat and his face was whiter than snow.

The night around them was cold and silent, but for Tezuka's gasps. He felt dizzy, wondered dimly whether his injury would turn out to be fatal in the end, but he couldn't care less, not when Fuji's motionless body finally rested in his arms.

"Fuji…" he whispered, voice hoarse, choked with uncountable emotions.

But the body in his arms failed to stir.

Cold panic crawled through his veins; ignoring his own injury, Tezuka gently shook his friend's small form.

"No…" he unconsciously muttered, desperately wanting to deny the sight meeting his eyes, not wanting to believe to harsh reality reflecting on the lake's black surface in a cold November night.

"Fuji… please…"

The tears in his eyes were burning hotter than the blood still trickling from his wound, slowly adding red patches to the collar of Fuji's splendid kimono, adding shades of red where pale gold and whites and shades of pearly previously had ruled sorely.

"Please… don't!"

Something wet, hot slid down his cheek, but Tezuka didn't feel it. Reality had ceased to exist, no more willow trees, no more soft grass underneath, only that fragile body in his arms mattered.

"Don't leave me!"

Pressing his eyes shut, he desperately clutched Fuji's unresisting form to his chest, heart torn into pieces.

"Don't! I… I…"

He didn't want to believe it was too late. He didn't want to… to survive only to find the person he wanted to share his life with dead in his arms. He didn't want to…

… to face that he might just have realized his feelings too late.

Hell, he still couldn't tell if this was love. But it was tearing his heart into pieces. It was forcing tears out of eyes that hadn't cried in years. It was telling him that it was this person he cared for more than for anybody else. It was this person he wanted to spend more time with.

It was this feeling that rendered him crying, clutching Fuji like a lifeline, kneeling outside in a harsh, cold night.

"I…"

"Ne, Tezuka."

A soft, gentle, and painfully familiar voice suddenly cut through the haze of despair and hopelessness surrounding him. Almost blinded from the adrenalin surge Tezuka's head shot up, eyes wide, painfully confused and disbelieving.

A friendly smile greeted him.

"Fu…"

Standing – or rather – floating, no more than a mere metre in front of him, softly glowing in the nightly darkness, was Fuji. All colour had been bleached out, his form hovered half-transparent over frozen grass, yet the smile remained the same.

Only a bit on the sad side, this time.

"I'm sorry about this." Fuji wistfully glanced around, for once unbothered by a weakened physical condition, "I'm sorry you got injured."

His eyes came to rest on Tezuka. Where the injury was hidden by the limp body Tezuka was clutching to his chest.

"I … I didn't want this to happen. I even made them promise…" he trailed of, blinking once, "But I guess it didn't work. I'm honestly sorry, Tezuka."

"Fuji…" Tezuka uttered, completely dumbfounded. The words his friend was saying were heart-wrenchingly sweet, but oh so dreadfully, frightening wrong in their finality. Fuji was saying so little, so little Tezuka right now wanted to hear.

Because, he wanted the impossible, didn't he?

Wanted to embrace a living, breathing and healthy Fuji, wanted to tell him that he cared, wanted to draw him into his arms, even now, that the tansluscent form in front of his eyes was surely a ghost.

Which meant…

"But still, thank you, Tezuka." Fuji carried on, ignorant of the feelings tormenting his friend, "Thank you so much."

This smile – this heart-breaking sweet smile. Tezuka would give his soul to see it in his life, only once more. Only once, only one real smile, one more not painted onto a ghost's face.

"Thank you for being here with me. Tonight. And thank you for all the other times, too. Thank you for everything."

"No." Tezuka uttered, frightened of what the finality shaking Fuji's even voice implied. "No!"

Fuji closed his eyes, and smiled even brighter.

"I'm glad I met you, Tezuka."

"No! Don't leave me!" Tezuka yelled abruptly. Fuji's eyes snapped wide open, just as pain exploded from his stomach, leaving Tezuka sinking backwards slowly, painfully gasping for air.

"Tezuka?" bewilderment coloured that gentle voice.

"Don't." Tezuka whispered, his strength giving out, lungs burning from the lack of oxygen. The last thing he saw was Fuji smiling expectantly at him, head slightly tilted as was his usual wont and all he knew was he wouldn't survive losing this person.

"Don't leave me." Tezuka mumbled, as his vision faded to black. "Don't leave me. I love you."

* * *

So much for the showdown. Hope you enjoyed it! Comments and/ or criticism are welcome! 


	19. Chapter 19

**Ghost Hunt**

* * *

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Further warnings: focussed entirely on Fuji and Tezuka

Author is no native English speaker (always glad to accept corrections)

Angst

AN: Ugh… sorry, I think that is the longest it ever took me to update. And to make a long story short, life got in the way (moved, got a job, somebody got pregnant, somebody (very close and precious) died and I still need a new flat). But for now, here we go!

* * *

But now, for reviews:

Lia-derVampir: Another person familiar with the 'Lebenslicht' (I had no clue what it actually meant until mine fell over and my mother sort of panicked…-). That aside, the plot sort of worked itself out. It was inspired by a variety of horror movies, though.

Faith lane: Thank you very much for your lovely review. Hope you'll also like the long-overdue update.

itssoMELISSA: Sorry about the cliffy (and the fact that I left it hanging for far too long), but I'm sort of addicted to writing cliffhangers; and well, even if it takes a long time – I do update.

Lady Ifrit: Don't worry, I never planned to make this a death-fic. - Anyways, concerning the case with Tezuka's grandfather and the Fuji siblings… it's a sidetrack I might explore later on. Though, perhaps not within this fic, but rather as a stand-alone… (though I'm not sure yet).

StarDancer1234: Glad you liked the last two chapters and sorry about this chapter lacking in actual Te/Fu. Though the next chapter will include at little more. -

Speadee: Thanks a lot for your review! And for saying, that plot and behaviour appear within reason – even more important for me, because those last two chapters underwent a lot of last-minute changes, also plot-wise, so I wasn't certain whether everything was congruent. But as for how everything continues… there are still two chapters (or so) to go,

Valeriana-kun: You were quite right – I wanted to make it look like they both died. And Fuji sort of – well, explanations will follow.

A1y-puff: Ehehehe… I apologize for the too-long wait, and hope you'll still like the fic. Even though the following chapter does lack in melodrama (at least compared to the previous ones), and as for Fuji's exact condition – I'll only say he is not dead.

Gin no Tsubasa: Very, very sorry about the long wait. But don't fear, neither Fuji nor Yumiko are actually dead.

Yoshikochan: Thank you, thank you, thank you. I was wondering whether the confession at the end was a tad to much melodrama, but I'm glad to see people out there like melodrama as much as I do. And well, for Tezuka and Fuji, things ought to become better.

AnuneFan412: Thank you very much bows. And do not fear, even though the break was long, neither the previous one, nor this one are the last chapter. (Actually, it's more like a three-or-something-chapters epilogue following).

Sango Hikari: Ehehe, sorry about making you cry (though that wasn't completely unintentional….). And sorry for the long wait, too, but things are looking up (concerning updates as well as the protagonists' situation).

Please enjoy!

* * *

**17. Kanon**

Pure, stainless white and the smell of disinfectants were the first things Tezuka became aware of after opening his eyes. Disoriented, he closed them again, trying to gather his bearings.

He was lying on a comfortable bed, buried underneath a warm blanket, his body felt heavy and lethargic. Somewhere from his right he heard water gurgling. With his senses still submerged in fatigue he tried opening his eyes once more to assess his situation – which, for a reason that currently eluded his hazy mind, was strange.

With the slightest bit of uneasiness coiling in his stomach, he looked around.

It was far too light to be his own room, because he usually closed the curtains before going to sleep. Neither did the wall sport a van Gogh print nor was painted this sterile white colour.

Even though his pounding head advised him to stay down and close his eyes again, Tezuka raised himself on his elbows. More white-washed walls, a small table holding a vase with flowers and several cheap white plastic chairs – hospital issue.

So that…

With a groan he sank back on the mattress, closing his eyes from the memories assaulting his mind. Tatsunori Ichirou, standing amidst a sea of flickering candles; Fuji Yumiko laughing coldly, a dead little girl waving at him to follow, Fujiwara Amane approaching with a sweet smile and a pointed hairpin, Fuji clutching at metal bars, his desperate attempt to reach out, to…

"Kunimitsu! Are you awake?"

He only noted his eyes were burning, when his mother's worried voice drew him from his spinning thoughts. Blinking he looked over to his left and found his mother leaning forward on her hospital chair.

"Mo…" he had to stop half-way through the word, because his voice came out hoarse and distorted and his throat was sore.

"Here, drink a little water."

She held out a small plastic cup and Tezuka did as told, afterwards sinking back onto his pillows, feeling strangely worn-out. The stab-wound on his stomach was aching badly, his head was pounding and his neck was stiff.

"I'll call a nurse and ask for some painkillers." Tezuka Ayana announced with a soft smile, having read the barely perceivable changes in her son's expression correctly. Yet, even though her smile was gentle as ever, Tezuka could not overlook the dark circles underneath her eyes nor the paleness of her face.

His poor parents must have been horribly scared.

* * *

And they had been.

When Tezuka hadn't come home for dinner as he'd promised, they waited. Waited hours and hours, starring out into the darkness, hoping just to see a sign of their son returning. They shouldn't panic, they'd told themselves. Their son was responsible, there certainly was a good reason to him being late.

But if he'd been in an accident?

They should have been notified immediately, either by the police of the hospital. … and yet, memories of the previous days, of that evening when he'd returned, drenched and pale and sporting bruises – what if something had happened again?

He'd said he'd go to Fuji's. The house had never been mentioned and Ayana was certain, he wouldn't have gone back voluntarily. Still… it was ten at night and hadn't come home.

It had only been minutes later that Kuniharu had declared that they'd waited long enough, he'd drive up to that house – just to make sure.

What they found had been beyond their worst nightmare. Ayana knew that she'd never forget the suffocating silence smothering the tranquil scene. The eerie calmness of unmoving trees, the lake's undisturbed surface, biting cold – it had felt like a graveyard.

Yet not even the dreadful atmosphere hanging over the building could have prepared them for the scene awaiting them inside.

Overturned candles, some still flickering, casting ghastly shadows over polished tiles, dirtied by spots of water and thicker liquid of darker colour – and for the first time that night Ayana had been grateful for the suffocating darkness that made it hard to tell reality from imagination.

That relief though, had been short-lived. Just a split second later, just a small movement of Kuniharu's wrist to the left revealed a body, motionless on the floor.

Fuji Yumiko. She'd been cold and they'd feared the worst when she failed to wake or to react – but she'd been breathing. Frighteningly shallow and slow gulps of air, but at least for her there had been hope.

There'd been no trace of their son.

Yet there were blood stains on the ground. And Yumiko suffered from no superficial injuries.

That was when the frantic search had begun – it might haven been hours or seconds, the passage of time became blurred by worry, distorted by an anguished heart.

Only when the flashlight's beam eventually came to rest on two unmoving figures, that time started to move again. Disbelief froze hearts for those moments, she looked without feeling the pain that was sure to set in at one point. She saw her son lying, half-leaning over another person's body, face hidden by hair, but he was still, so frighteningly still and lifeless. And yet, he still seemed to be desperately clutching onto that other figure; his black-sleeved arm a stark contrast to the gleaming silk of the other person's kimono.

Fuji's face had been hidden, turned into Tezuka's direction and away from Ayana and Kuniharu; and she'd almost no recognized him in the beginning. She'd seen that figure her son was holding dearly and wondered dimly who it was, eyes following the folds of richly coloured silk to where the wide sleeves spread over dark moss, revealing deathly white fingertips.

Confusion, heart-wrenching fear and pain warred for supreme dominance in her mind, but shock and adrenalin kept her going. She could see the same state of emotional distress mirrored on her husband's face – yet without a word they stepped forward and did what they had to.

* * *

"Mother?"

Tezuka Ayana was torn from her recollections by her son's voice – which sounded so calm and collected, even if she could sense worry and urgency underneath. The nurse – having done her work – left the room with a promise to return with the doctor in charge, but as the door clicked shut, both, mother and son let their masks crumble.

"Mother, what … what happened to Fuji?"

His voice sounded oddly choked to himself, but it had to be expected from the way Tezuka was clenching his jaw. It had taken every ounce of self-control not to burst out into questions with the nurse fussing about; to keep the questions tormenting his heart inside only a little longer.

Yet with every moment that passed, with every moment he had to stay calm, the pain inside grew more violent. It took all he possessed to keep the horrifying ideas from forming, to banish those blood-freezing memories until he could get answers – but no painkillers, no drug in this world could have stopped his mind from replaying the despair, the sheer hopelessness, that had taken possession of his heart not even twenty-four hours ago.

And the way his mother sighed, eyes deeply grieved and pain-stricken did nothing to calm his frantically beating heart.

It couldn't…

"Kunimitsu…"

"Fuji…" he couldn't keep his voice steady, but he didn't care. Only the faintest flicker of hope still lingering in the depth of his chest kept the tears burning in his eyes from spilling; only that irresponsible desire to deny what he had seen last night, to name those events a nightmare in the light of this new day.

Even if it went each and every of his principles to cling onto a frail, frail hope, when he'd held that cold, motionless body in his arms, he still couldn't forsake the only fragment of light left to him. Because if…

… if he had to be rational…. and accept the things he'd seen last night…

He'd rather have died, too.

"Is Fuji…?" he whispered again, not caring about the frightened expression of concern on his mother's face.

"Kunimitsu…" she uttered, suddenly leaning forward and drawing him into her arms, "Don't… don't…"

She heaved a sigh, one hand instinctively reaching up to tousle his hair, a gesture he still remembered from years ago, whenever he was sick.

"Fuji-kun didn't die, Kunimitsu." She finally said softly, a tentative smile ghosting over her lips, „Neither did his sister."

He had been so afraid of hearing the answer to the question plaguing his soul that her words didn't immediately register. But then they did. And Tezuka closed his eyes, swallowing the lump constricting his throat, swallowing the tears and buried his face in his mother's shoulder.

"They're both alive, Kunimitsu." Ayana repeated and from the way her voice shook Tezuka could tell it had been a close call, "Not in best shape, but alive."

Pressing her lips together in a grim smile, she continued. "I wish they were better, though."

"Mother?" he asked in return, subtly tensing up again.

"The doctors won't tell us any details because we aren't family… but from what I gathered it's not good. Especially Fuji-san's condition…

"Mother." Was all he said, because he was lacking the words to express his consternation. There were – in all languages he knew, and perhaps even in all languages in this world – no words to adequately transmit his feelings. And unlike those who used all the words they knew to only approximately describe what was happening inside his chest, he choose to remain silent and return his mother's embrace.

"It's okay… it's okay." She whispered, and her voice sounded oddly pressed, "It's okay… You're alive. It's okay. You've got no idea how…"

* * *

And truly, Tezuka had had little idea how close it had been. When the doctor arrived a couple of minutes later and explained the details of his condition – after giving both a few moments to gather themselves – Tezuka felt a cold shudder run down his spine.

Had Amane stabbed him only mere centimetres higher, he would have died within minutes. Had that hairpin hit him any other place, he'd have been as good as dead. There were so many fragile organs, that it was a sheer miracle for him to have escaped with nothing but what was barely more than an extraordinarily deep stab wound.

The doctor's pronouncement of 'no strenuous activities' for at least three weeks left a bitter aftertaste, but after seeing Tezuka's glum expression, the doctor added with a frown, that had the needle struck him about five centimetres on the right, he'd currently be on the waiting list for a kidney transplant.

With tennis completely out of question for the next two to five years.

Tezuka could only listen to those words with eyes wide from disbelief; hands clutching the bed sheets until his knuckles were white, just to keep them from trembling.

"Though, everything considered," the doctor eventually said, "You should consider yourself extremely lucky."

The statement ought to have been called lie, yet, sitting upright in this too-white, too-sterile room, with his body numb from pain killers, and his heart fluttering from previously unknown emotions, he could only nod his speechless agreement. Lines of worry drawn on his mother's pale face spoke volumes; and the fact that he'd woken up to see that white ceiling overhead alone, was more than he had hoped for.

Right now, he did not want to recall the last time he had closed his eyes. The turmoil within his chest, the despondence, the sudden void – his heart was still shaking from the aftershocks. If he was to recall everything in its horrifying glory – he felt it ought to be his death.

Even now, huddled under warm blankets, he could barely believe that he survived. That he really lived through all those things he wouldn't have expected in his worst nightmares.

Not even a week ago he had not thought the existence of ghosts possible; Tezuka contemplated, while half-listening to his mother conversing with the doctor. Had been willing to write everything off as chance, as … something more natural and earthly than spirits.

And still, sitting here, watching life go on as it usually did, watching the unchanged world, it would be too easy to fall back into his old routine, to dismiss last night's events, delete everything from memory and pretend nothing had ever happened.

Yet besides that sort of behaviour being improper and disrespectful, those were memories that despite their immanent desperation, their connotative horror were precious. Precious for teaching him that his seemingly stable grasp of the world was fragile in the end, only a fragile mental construction, no matter how scientifically knowledgeable he was.

But even more, that persons were precious.

The lesson was not new, no, he'd always held his family dear, treasured those he considered friends and respected all other acquaintances. Yet he'd never known what the feelings binding him to those persons really meant, hadn't realized how deep losses could cut, how easily a heart could be torn apart, how easily a world could shatter.

And how much he would regret, had Fuji really died. There were so many things, smaller, bigger, those confused feelings unsettling his heart – that he'd spontaneously called love, even though understood next to nothing of that emotion – the promises they'd exchanged, prospective tennis matches, study sessions, let's go there next break, I've never climbed a mountain before, let's go together –

"Excuse me, doctor." Tezuka suddenly said, surprising himself, as well as the man in the white coat who'd just been about to leave the room, "Perhaps… the patient that was brought in together with me…"

"You mean Fuji-kun?" the doctor replied with a benevolent smile, indicating that he was well-informed, even though Fuji was none of his own patients.

"Would it be possible to go and see him?"

* * *

Thank you for reading and I apologize once again for the late update. I hope you enjoyed it, though, and if you have suggestions or comments, please share them with me. 


	20. Chapter 20

**Ghost Hunt**

* * *

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Further warnings: focussed entirely on Fuji and Tezuka

Author is no native English speaker (always glad to accept corrections)

Angst

As for reviews:

Speadee: Thanks a lot. - I had my trouble with the hospital scene(s)… they just don't want to end up the way I want them to. So I'm glad if somebody tells me they're half-way credible.

Shourin: Glad to have attracted a new reader. And don't worry, the worst cliffhangers are past, now. Still, might be some drama mixed with fluff to come.

A1y-puff: Et voila, Tezuka goes to see Fuji in the following chapter. The scene didn't quite turn out how I had expected it too, but I hope it'll be to your likening.

Sango Hikari: Eh, don't worry. I'll properly announce the end when we reach it. Furthermore I like my characters best half-dead, not all the way gone. But as for explanations… erm, they're still like one or two chapters away.

Tezuka: Thanks! And Ganbatte to you too! As a non-native speaker I'm always half-way off the couch with glee when somebody tells me my writing is good.

Gin no Tsubasa: Eto, let's see. You'll get a glimpse of Fuji's condition right in this chapter; I might add a pseudo-medical explanation later on. And for the rest of Seigaku – their entrance is scheduled for the following chapter.

Yoshikochan: … I must admit, clarifying Fuji's condition that lately in the last chapter was not quite intentional. (though if it kept the tension, I'm rather glad I did it, -). And I'd be really, really, really happy if you'd be putting up this work of fiction on your website. So thanks, ne!

Star Dancer: You have no idea how glad I am you said that chapter was worth the wait. … And I hope updates will be more frequent from now on….

EBIL DUSTBUNNY OF DOOOOM: Rest assured, this chapter is not the last. Still, the end is near … (but there might be an omake… and who knows… is the plotbunny bites, maybe even a sequel)

Please enjoy!

* * *

**18. Barcarolle**

"_You mean Fuji-kun?" the doctor replied with a benevolent smile, indicating that he was well-informed, even though Fuji was none of his own patients. _

"_Would it be possible to go and see him?" Tezuka asked, waiting with baited breath_.

The doctor's smile faltered and was replaced by a more weary expression. After some seconds of silence, he eventually spoke.

"Generally, yes, you can go and visit your friends."

Tezuka's heart leapt from joy, even if the doctor's frown told him wordlessly not to hold onto high expectations. Ayana beside him clutched her skirt and waited for the man in white to continue.

"Though first of all, please consider your own condition. You won't be able to walk without help until the injury hasn't healed at least a bit. So if you insist to go, you'll need at least crutches, but I'd recommend a wheelchair so as not to endanger the stitches."

Tezuka nodded, waiting with baited breath. Nothing out of the impossible – well, his dignity might suffer should any tennis circuit acquaintance catch him hobbling around on crutches – but it was nothing he wouldn't do for Fuji.

Everything so that he could see that precious face again. Everything to erase those horrid

images of Fuji – ghostly form – burned on his retina.

"Ideally I would have a nurse accompany you, but I suppose anybody" –and here the man threw a conspiratorial smirk at Ayana- "might suffice. Just to make sure you don't collapse en route."

The somewhat lighter atmosphere however did not hold. The doctor's face once more turned serious.

"However, you'll need explicit permission to visit, either from the patient himself or a family member."

Tezuka swallowed, remembering an empty house and Fuji's rather casual mentions of his parent's frequent travels.

"We managed to contact the parents earlier this morning." The doctor state, banishing at least Tezuka's worst fears, "Though I'm afraid the question of admitting visitors didn't come up then. Consequently, we'll have to ask the patient himself – which in Fuji Yumiko's case, I'm afraid, will be impossible."

He hadn't thought about her anymore.

Tezuka felt his blood freeze, unbidden images of a motionless body on the ground rising up again, while his mother stiffened.

She wasn't… Hadn't his mother said nobody died, just a few minutes earlier? What was…

Seeing their frightened faces, the doctor heaved a sigh and closed the door behind him, effectively cutting their conversation off from the corridor.

"Though I'm not supposed to tell you, I don't think it would do any harm. Fuji Yumiko is – as to our knowledge now – comatose."

It felt as if somebody had pulled out the ground from underneath his feet – an enormous event, that neither his mind nor his heart could effectively grasp within the seconds that the news came. He logically understood the words, but their meaning hadn't sunk in yet.

"As for Fuji Syusuke – you'll have to wait until he's at least awake so that we can ask him"

It was only about half a month later that Tezuka remembered the encounter and suddenly noted, that the doctor had said 'awake' and not 'coherent'.

* * *

Luckily for Tezuka's rather unsettled nerves, procuring said oral permission went surprisingly fast. Barely half an hour later he was hobbling down the corridor on some crutches, his worried mother tagging along.

(She'd naturally pleaded for the wheelchair, but no matter how sensible her child, he still had certain degree of pride which he firmly defended.)

Two elevator rides and a couple corridors later found them both eventually at the right station entrance. The plate didn't read ICU, yet the aura emitted by a closed, sterile door was still eerily frightening.

After ringing a bell and stating their business, a door was opened and a somewhat tired-looking nurse received them.

Drawing a deep breath, Tezuka entered the special care section with every hair on his body standing up. There was no blood, no panic, no loud, chaotic yelling, no, everything was clean and white and orderly, but still…

Still, this typically hospital air hung thicker of those rooms than any other place he'd yet visited. Gazing at his mother's expression brought little peace to his mind – she looked far more worried than he'd ever felt comfortable expressing.

"Please wash your hands first." The nurse further instructed them, leading them over to a small basin where the smell of disinfectants was the strongest.

Both, Ayana and Tezuka nodded. Silently, they complied, each chasing their own thoughts.

The nurse left them with a room number and the advice to call somebody at once should anything occur – and then they were left to their own devices. Tezuka could only step forward from here, even though with each step he took his mind was conjuring new nightmares.

Pictures from every movie he'd seen mingled in his imagination; he saw rows of beeping machines, entirely strange devices, and countless injection needles jotted into Fuji's body. That small, white, and lifeless body…

As if sensing his thoughts, Ayana put a hand on his shoulder, when he opened the door to Fuji's room.

Fuji was as white as the sheets he rested on; fine, glossy strands of hair spilled across the pillow the only hint of colour. Even his lips were tinted an icy blue, and the pallor of his skin almost hid the white tubes attached to his hands and upper body.

Frozen to his place, Tezuka wondered what he ought to do, while his mother stepped past him. Ayana reached out, smothering back Fuji's hair in a rather affectionate gesture. Perhaps she was instinctively trying to replace the mother that wasn't there, trying to fill the emptiness and lack of flowers around Fuji's bed.

Gathering himself, Tezuka tried in fain to calm his upset heart; to keep his mind from replaying last night's events. Dimly he also recalled his spontaneous confession and wondered whether Fuji had actually heard the words. Whether those affections were truly love or if he'd only called them that out of desperation.

He didn't know, and while the idea of a relationship – to say nothing even of a homosexual one – usually would either embarrass or frighten him, those feelings were what gave him resolve when the rest of his mind was practically in shambles from fear and confusion.

Those hands resting motionless on the sheets looked so small and frail. He was afraid to reach out and touch them, while in his heart he wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold Fuji close to himself and make sure he was alright, and apologize for being so incapable of doing anything, and thank him, and tell him that he was more than an ordinary acquaintance, that…

Stepping forward, unmindful of his mother's watchful eye – how much of his sentiments would she be able to infer from his behaviour alone – he carefully grasped one of Fuji's hands. Taking care not to touch any of the needles delivering much-needed nutrients to his friend's thin body.

The hand felt small and bony and somehow, for a split second, Tezuka felt like crying. Here he was, alive and well after everything, while Fuji was far too-pale and not even conscious.

Biting his lip and swallowing the tears burning in his eyes, Tezuka put his second hand over the other – a futile attempt to warm the small limb in-between, perhaps.

But Fuji's eyelashes twitched at the touch – Tezuka's breath stopped – and then, very slowly, his eyes opened.

Tezuka felt like he was going to faint with relief when those blue eyes were revealed.

"Fuji-kun." he heard his mother mumble in a voice she'd previously only reserved for her own child, "How are you feeling?"

Astonishment lightened those slightly dazed blue orbs, maybe amazement at their presence, maybe at the degree of Ayana's motherly affections. Mustering a weak smile, he focused on the second face looming in the corner of his vision.

Tezuka. Holding one of his hands with both of his, dressed in a hospital gown and looking as if he ought to be lying down – and yet, buchou was…

Fuji blinked in disbelief. Buchou was smiling.

A grim smile, with red-rimmed eyes perhaps, but the sentiment… the sentiment there was… was heart-wrenchingly honest.

Yet with pain and drugs blurring his perception, Fuji couldn't be sure of anything he saw. Still, on the risk of speaking to an illusion, he wanted to respond to those kind words. Just a nod, or one word – anything to show he acknowledged their presence would suffice.

But when he opened his mouth, barely more than a choked gasp left his throat, before he recalled soreness, and thick liquid flooded his lungs.

Tezuka flinched when his friend started coughing, turning his head away. Wetness echoed horribly and there was no way to spare his mother the sight of the blood. He could only pray she wouldn't count herself responsible.

They all had acted on their own whims. Or maybe, if the blame had to be placed, the fault was the ghosts'. Nobody else had made a mistake in this affair – and even if Tezuka still felt guilty about last night, about standing on the sideline and doing nothing – he'd tried best, to his knowledge and ability. But what had happened had been far, far beyond him.

Blood splattered onto the pillow, Ayana gasped, horrified and Tezuka involuntarily closed his eyes as if to deny the image. Several devices beeped loudly, and at once steps hurriedly clacked closer.

"Please step back." one nurse that Tezuka hadn't even heard enter, demanded, shoving both Tezukas roughly aside. Two assistants appeared out of nowhere, turning Fuji over so that he could cough more easily. Bands of sweat were beading his face, and another machine beeped loudly.

"Blood pressure falling." one of the nurses announced, an odd sense of urgency in her voice making Tezuka feel cold.

Fuji's eyes began closing again, but he flashed a tired, bloodstained smile past Tezuka, mouthing a name, before coughing took him over again.

"We need to…" one of the nurses began saying, before the other firmly indicated for Tezuka and his mother to leave the room.

"Oh my…" Ayana whispered, voice choked with unshed tears. Her son wearily turned around – he wouldn't stay and watch the puppet theatre, trying to guess what was happening in there – and came face to face with a grim-faced Fuji Yuuta.

So this was whom Fuji had smiled at.

"Tezuka-san." Fuji Yuuta greeted, bowing formally. His hair was in disarray, but that was about the only testament to the grave situation he found his siblings in.

"Fuji-san." Tezuka replied, equally stiff, "I believe you haven't yet met; my mother, Tezuka Ayana. Mother, this is Fuji's brother, Fuji Yuuta."

Both bowed politely, even if Tezuka could tell his mother was a bit taken aback by Yuuta's lack of emotionality. But Tezuka could see that Yuuta had only another way of dealing with the situation.

"Thank you for taking care of my siblings." Yuuta said, head still bowed. His voice was surprisingly even – Tezuka had to admit, he, too, had expected the younger brother to be somewhat more upset. After all, Fuji Yuuta on the courts was a passionate and temperamental person, completely unlike his eternally smiling brother.

But even so, in the end, Yuuta was a member of the same family. And just like his siblings, he could employ the same inscrutable calmness, if needed.

"It was nothing." Ayana replied, sounding slightly uncertain, as if she wanted to offer consolations, yet had to stick to protocol.

Fuji Yuuta glanced around, hardly even flinching at the frantic activity behind the half-opened door that hid his brother from view. Tezuka dared not to think of what was happening there.

"I'm going to see my sister." Yuuta announced and turned his back on the scene.

* * *

Tezuka didn't know why exactly he was following Fuji Yuuta around, but somehow he and his mother found themselves doing just that. Maybe it was a subconscious desire to lend support, but Yuuta didn't look as if he needed it.

Not even the sight of his sister hooked up to dozens of machines had made him shed a tear, while Tezuka's blood had frozen. His expression might not have changed, either, but the memories were all too clear.

Of Yumiko barging in, restoring hope were all had seemed lost… to what end? To offer her own life? Had she known what was to come of her actions? Had she known and still gone through with it?

Yuuta, sitting at her bedside, had eventually acknowledged Tezuka's presence once again.

"What …" he heaved a weary sigh, "What did they do this time around?"

Ayana paled, shocked at the kind of experiences this 13-year old boy had gone through. How does one get used to see his next of kin hospitalized? In critical condition? Barely clinging on to life? If this had been somebody from her family…

"We tried to exorcise a ghost." Tezuka replied evenly.

Yuuta nodded. "Do you know what exactly happened?"

"Your brother got possessed. As for your sister … I don't know what exactly she did, but she tried to break the possession."

"Only the possession? Aniki didn't snap out by himself?" Yuuta frowned in disbelief.

He understood more than Tezuka had expected him too. Just the way the boy usually tried to keep himself distanced from the rest of his family – but obviously, all was only a front. Fuji Yuuta knew more than Tezuka probably ever would concerning exorcism, spirits and the supernatural.

"A ghost tried to revive somebody and…"

"Ah, I understand." Yuuta said, and Tezuka felt grateful that he didn't need to find words to explain the rest of what had transpired.

He spent the next five minutes deep in thought. In the end, he glanced at his sister's white face, and sorrow flashed through hazel eyes, before the unaffected front rose once more.

"Fuji-san." Ayana tentatively broke the silence, "If we can be of any help to you…"

Yuuta flashed a humourless smile at them. "Thank you very much, but it won't be …"

"Fuji-san. Anything will do." Ayana interrupted "I feel responsible. This happened in a house my family inherited and I…"

"Tezuka-san, please, don't worry." Yuuta gently refused "My siblings knew very well what they were doing and the possible repercussions it might have. And even if the situation got out of hand – it isn't as if that hadn't happened before."

His eyes darkened, reminding Tezuka eerily of Yumiko.

"There was one foolish endeavour I can't remember, a long time ago. I was just about three and Nee-san tried to help the police with the case of a kidnapped girl. In the end they had Syusuke try and enter her mind – just at the time her kidnapper killed her. Belief me, that was far worse than this now."

Ayana had been successfully shocked into white-faced silence. She seemed about to faint, a hand resting on the plastic chair's back for support.

Yuuta smiled at them, a classical Fuji smile.

"Tezuka-san, thank you for being there for my siblings. Please excuse me, I need to speak to the head physician."

And Fuji Yuuta left.

* * *

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it and if you have suggestions or comments, please share them with me. 


	21. Chapter 21

**Ghost Hunt**

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Disclaimer: Not mine.

Further warnings: focussed entirely on Fuji and Tezuka

Author is no native English speaker (always glad to accept corrections)

Angst

As for reviews:

Dark Reborn: Ah, that obscure incident in the past I keep referring to – well, it's a question of perspective, but I'd put it as 'he was in her mind when she died', meaning he didn't die _himself_… Sorry, if that's not really making sense sweatdrop

Speadee: As for their conditions, I hope this chapter will explain a few more things (even though some questions are intentionally left open). And Yuuta will have a chance to show more of his good side in this chappie

A1y-puff: Yuuta's calm is more of a pretence . And no, they've survived the worst and will get to talk in the next chapter (this one simply got to long, otherwise they'd already be having their reunion). Hope you like the update.

Sango Hikari: Your guess is dead-on. Yuuta was pretending, and I hope I can show a little more of his emotional side in this chapter. Fuji-kun, as his sister, will be getting better – slow go as it may be – though there's the one or other question that will remain unanswered for a little longer.

Yoshikochan: Thank you so very much bows. Anyways, I hope the following chapter will please you as the last one did; as well as that this update wasn't too late, yet. And I'm glad that Yuuta – while certainly acting atypically – still appeared not too ooc.

Ebil Dustbunny of Doooom: No, not the end yet, neither . It's still going to be two or three chapters until that, even though most of the drama should be done then. And I hope you like Yuuta in the following chapter.

AN: To everybody who reviewed, thank you very, very much. This fiction had originally counted only 15 chapters, and now I'm already posting Part No.21. And it's not the plotline, that changed, but all the reviews that made me change later chapters, re-read them, correct them, add more details or try to improve my writing style. Last but not least, chapters as the following only came to be due to reviews! So, thank you!

Now, without further ramblings, please enjoy!

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**19. Andante**

It was with an exhausted sigh that Tezuka Kunimitsu bade his parents goodbye on Sunday evening. Convincing them to go home that early had taken a lot out of him – or what had been left of his energy after the myriad of tests, examinations and other sessions the doctors had seen it fit to put him through.

Thankfully, the test marathon hadn't been for naught. He'd been declared fit, with the notable exception of his stab wound of course, but since that was uninfected and healing rather nicely, chances were good that he could be discharged tomorrow or the day after.

His parents' nerves too, had been soothed – at least regarding his condition. There were still shadows on everyone's faces the moment Fuji's name was mentioned. All day there had been no update on his condition and after the shocking visit in the morning, Tezuka hadn't wanted to expose his parents to such a scene again.

Even though if he hadn't been able to banish the images from his mind for the entire day. Fuji had been so terribly pale and; well, looked so small on that hospital bed with all those machines surrounding him.

Hopefully, he too, was getting better.

At least he was alive. And had been conscious, if only for a short time. Compared to his poor, poor sister …

Gathering his last energy reserves Tezuka pushed himself up and reached for the crutches. He wouldn't be sleeping tonight with this morning's and last night's pictures haunting him. Maybe he could exchange a few words with Fuji – or just watch him sleep peacefully for once.

Hold that small hand for some minutes …

Curious, Tezuka thought with a grim smirk as he carefully pushed his room's door open and searched the corridor for potential obstacles, it was his stomach that had been stabbed. But it was his heart that was constantly been torn apart by whirling emotions.

There were no nurses in sight, so Tezuka hurried to make his way to the lift. The moment he was off his station and within the artificially lightened hospital corridors the probability to encounter a person who'd send him back to his bed was small.

Still, the way up took quite some time and the smell of antiseptics seemed to grow stronger with every step he took. And the nurse that admitted him to the station was eyeing him somewhat suspiciously, but grew quite warm when he told her he was there to see a friend.

With sweat beading his forehead, Tezuka finally arrived at the door to Fuji's room, which wasn't quite closed. And the voice floating through made Tezuka stop from reaching for the door handle.

He'd heard that voice already earlier today; it had been rather calm and stoic then – which was why he almost didn't recognize it in the beginning.

Fuji Yuuta was in there. And quite upset.

"… what the hell have you been thinking? Have you been thinking at all?"

While Fuji Yuuta was audibly displeased, he couldn't stop his voice from trembling. He sounded far more shocked than he had appeared all day long, what made Tezuka wonder, if Yuuta had really been that calm previously.

Or whether he, too, according to what seemed to be an odd sort of a family tradition, had simply worn his own version of the Fuji mask.

Tezuka couldn't hear if there was a response, but there seemed to have been one.

"Yes, I know! I know! But, honestly, aniki! Did one of you actually stop and think about the consequences? I mean, I'm already used to both of you sort of ignoring the situation at hand, but at least…"

The short silence implied that Yuuta must have been cut off by his older brother. Tezuka felt uncomfortable, standing before the door and listening in, and should somebody come by, he'd be hard-pressed for a good explanation, but …

"It's not that bad?!"

Yuuta sounded as disbelieving as Tezuka felt.

"It's not that bad?! Aniki, look at yourself before saying ridiculous things like that! You're can't even get up without help and let's not mention Nee-san! Do you… do you even…"

Trailing of, the rest of the sentence disappeared into a choked silence. This time, Tezuka was sure, there were tears in Yuuta's eyes.

And the next sentence sounded badly pressed; and was punctured by irregular gasps.

"Not as bad as back then. Really, aniki, do you even remember how bad that was? You weren't even conscious for most of the procedure, but … you didn't see mom's face then. And anyways, this is bad enough."

Another silence.

"Yes, I know you'll get better and Nee-san also will wake up, but still… what if things hadn't worked out? No, and even though I don't know what happened in detail, you wouldn't be here if it hadn't been a close call."

Biting his lip, Tezuka wondered whether he should just knock and walk in – ear-dropping on this increasingly private conversation felt, curiosity aside, rather wrong.

"And you promised. Aniki, both you and Nee-san promised you wouldn't do this again. Or at least not on this scale – but both of you keep ignoring what the doctors said back then, you pretend everything is alright and … and…"

Yuuta's voice was cracking. Now was definitely not a good time to interrupt, Tezuka decided, swallowing the lump of fear stuck in his own throat. He ought to step back and wait somewhere else, at least until Yuuta had calmed down –

But he found himself unable to take even a step away. Because, even though he technically wasn't supposed to know, Yuuta's words had send a cold shiver down his spine. He would not find any rest tonight without knowing what the younger Fuji was implying, if there was some grave condition concerning his beloved friend that he wasn't aware of, if …

"… and someday it's all going to take its toll and where will you be then? If not for yourself then at least think of Mom and Dad, your friends, me! How did you think I felt when the hospital called?!"

A soft cough resounded and Tezuka automatically stiffened. He wanted to go in there and finally look at Fuji, and calm his mounting fears-

"Please, aniki, promise me, you won't ever do this again! Promise me! Because I don't want to see the day where somebody calls to inform me that you and Nee-san didn't make it…"

For a moment, Tezuka's breath caught. Once more memories flashed in front of his eyes, once again he saw a stranger's expression on Fuji's face, felt that motionless body resting in his arms and it had felt so small, so insubstantial – to think that somebody who played such a large part in his life, his heart, was bound to such a frail body…

"… you should better rest now, aniki. I need to go back anyways. I'll come and see you tomorrow…"

Fuji Yuuta's voice had evened out. Drawing a deep breath and praying to avoid any red-rimmed eyes Tezuka gathered his courage and knocked before opening the door.

"Tezuka-san." Yuuta's cheeks were red-flecked, but otherwise he looked as composed as he had earlier that day. Obviously, he was more apt at acting than Tezuka ever had expected him to be. Who'd ever have thought that easily excitable Fuji Yuuta could pull a stoic face that put Tezuka's own to shame?

He didn't dare to look at his friend yet.

"Good evening." Tezuka politely said, "Am I intruding?"

Yuuta's facial didn't change, but the fact that he didn't reply immediately spoke volumes. But before Yuuta could think of any polite excuse to send Tezuka away and let his brother finally get some rest, said brother cheerfully interrupted.

"No, not at all! Yuuta, let him come in!"

The pleased tone did not at all agree with the colour of Fuji's face. Only one surprised glance at his friend's face made Tezuka anxious to convince Fuji to lie at least down, and not to exhaust himself any further.

But Fuji ignored both Tezuka's and Yuuta's disbelieving expressions. Waving Tezuka over, he gestured to the chair beside his bed.

"Come on, come on, Tezuka! Sit down here, those crutches can't be all that comfortable!"

But looking at that smiling face, the scrunched up eyes, Tezuka found that he was looking at a skilfully crafted mask. Still, he automatically obeyed and stepped forward, past a disgruntled looking Yuuta.

"Take care on your way back, Yuuta!" Fuji said, still smiling as if he had not a care in the world.

Rolling his eyes slightly, Fuji Yuuta only nodded, bit his lip and left the room with one worried glance backwards. He had not said all the things he wanted to, no, but somehow with his brother he rarely managed to get his point across. Neither was he too happy with the fact, that Syusuke wouldn't be getting any rest immediately – because no matter what he might have been saying, Yuuta could tell his brother was beyond exhausted.

Still, Tezuka was a sensible person - even if he had somehow gotten mixed up in one of his siblings' stranger adventures. Yuuta was going to trust him. For now.

Anyways, he still wanted to pay Nee-san a visit.

* * *

Thanks for reading and please leave a review or a comment (and you make me very, very happy )


	22. Chapter 22

**Ghost Hunt**

* * *

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Further warnings: focussed entirely on Fuji and Tezuka, author is no native English speaker (always glad to accept corrections), angst

As for reviews:

Speadee: Thank you melts. And well, I tried to base most of the hospital stuff on either personal experience or credible clichés, so I'm glad to hear that seems realistic (because when I was writing I wondered, whether my experiences would seem realistic to somebody from another country…). And Yuuta and Tezuka – for once, in this chapter, they ended up doing what I had intended them to do.

Sango Hikari: I hope the following chapter makes up for the last one's shortness (that had not been intended – I had intended to include the Zuka-Fuji conversation back there, but that particular scene turned out far tooooooo long. But… it finally brings some explanations.)

A1y-puff: I kinda like Yuuta that way . And well, I hope this chapter makes you happy; it's longer, it has the Tezuka-Fuji conversation, some long-overdue explanations…. Though it does not have the other regulars. But (this time for real), they ought to appear next chapter.

Yoshikochan: I'm glad the short chapter was enough to cheer you up, though I hope you have a better day this time around. And about everything else – well, yes, Fuji is getting better, but the confession… well, I guess that might still take some more time.

StarDancer1234: Thanks for your review, and hey, I thought Yuuta came of rather poorly in the chapter before the last, so he deserved some more screen time. As for Fuji and Tezuka, they'll finally have some time to talk this chapter.

Ebil Dustbunny of Dooom: More? Here you go! Sadly though, no Yuuta this time around, but a lot of conversation between Tezuka and Fuji. I hope you'll still like it.

Dark Reborn: Your words are quite true; poor Yuuta indeed for always having to wait and see. But rest assured, for now, there are no more tragedies planned within the last remaining chapters.

And now, without any further ado,

Please enjoy!

* * *

**20. Romanze**

Sitting down slowly, Tezuka absentmindedly wondered what to say. Fuji was smiling at him expectantly –but Tezuka had no words to share, all he wanted to do was reach out and touch him.

Fuji blinked in confusion when Tezuka failed to move. Focussing his slightly blurry vision he found a strange expression on Tezuka's face – one, that he had never seen before. There seemed to be a whole myriad of words stuck on the tip of his tongue, but none emerged.

"Te…" Fuji started and had to clear his throat, even though it hurt like hell. His voice sounded like his vocal chords had been scrubbed with sandpaper and actually speaking felt worse, but seeing Tezuka like that made his heart ache to a degree that every other kind of pain faded into the background.

"Tezuka… what is…?"

"Kunimitsu." Tezuka suddenly interrupted, "We agreed to use our first names, don't you remember?"

And even though he felt like he had been run over by a truck, Fuji couldn't help but smile. Tezuka looked rather mystified at his own behaviour which was, admittedly, not typical, but somewhat … for the lack of a better word, cute.

Giggling slightly – he tried to suppress the fit welling up inside, because his lungs wouldn't stand for it and also because a great part of his sudden amusement most certainly had to be credited to hysterics – Fuji nodded.

"Yes, Kunimitsu."

The name felt unfamiliar on his tongue, but the slight twitch around Tezuka's lips was all the assurance Fuji needed.

"So…" Fuji continued, eyes scrunched up in a wide smile, "How are you?"

Drawing a deep breath Tezuka forced his scattered thoughts to gather; forced himself to focus instead of running through a million and one scenes of what he could say, what could happen in his mind.

"I'm fine." He replied, "The pin missed any vital points."

Fuji's eyes flew open, bewildered.

"The p…"

To raise his voice so suddenly had not been a good idea. He doubled over coughing. Dry, hacking coughs at first, but the tell-tale ache deep in his lungs warned him to avert his head in time.

Tezuka felt like crying when Fuji's coughs finally abated and his friend turned around with his lips coloured red from blood.

Both started speaking at the same time; Tezuka to apologize and Fuji to demand clarification. Feeling oddly embarrassed, Tezuka mentioned for Fuji to speak first, even though he wondered whether he should let him speak at all.

"Wh… what pin, Tezuka?" Fuji questioned, looking as worried as Tezuka felt.

"The hairpin that …" Tezuka trailed of, because 'that you stabbed me with' didn't quite seem like an appropriate thing to say. "The hairpin I got stabbed by."

Fuji noted his odd formulation, but refrained from inquiring – testament to his weakened condition. Mustering a half-hearted smile Fuji turned his head to look up at Tezuka.

"I'm sorry. … But I'm … afraid I don't remember."

Tezuka felt what little colour he possessed leave his face.

"The last thing I recall… is when you were knocked down in the cellar. After that…"

Fuji shook his head. Tezuka bit his lip and instinctively reached out. This time, he didn't stop the gesture half-way, but let his hand drop to cover Fuji's much smaller one.

"Don't worry." Tezuka said gently, thinking it wasn't a bad thing if Fuji would be spared the horrid recollections. His gazed dropped to their entwined hands and he realized, that this meant, Fuji had forgotten about his confession, too.

Was that a good thing?

Maybe, because Tezuka had lost his head back there. Though, he also had to wonder, whether he would ever feel daring enough to word those feelings again.

"Don't worry." He repeated, feeling like a broken record, "We got out. Even though…"

Drawing a deep, painful breath, Fuji closed his eyes for a moment. "Ne, Te – Kunimitsu, you're the only person who knows what exactly happened."

Then those sky-blue orbs opened and found Tezuka's face, taking his breath away with their clarity.

"Please tell me. … I want to understand … what happened to Nee-san … and to you, as well."

"But I don't…" Tezuka replied spontaneously, fingers unconsciously tightening their hold, "I don't even understand what happened myself."

Fuji had to smile at Tezuka's expression. "Then tell me. … Tell me and we'll figure it out … together."

Tezuka's breath caught. Looking up, he found a slight blush colouring Fuji's cheeks, and dared to hope in the back of his mind, that Fuji wasn't only talking about those events. But also about the possibility of "them"…

Still, Tezuka scolded himself, with both of them hospitalized and so many unanswered questions, it was too early to think of love, yet.

Even if the way Fuji looked at him, the way he felt a comfortable warmth spreading through himself when seeing that smile, the words they had exchanged back in that cellar – even if everything left no doubt, at least then a hospital was not a place for a confession.

Gathering himself, Tezuka began to retell the story – in full-length and with biting his tongue not leave out the more uncomfortable details – for the first time. And probably, also for the last, because he most certainly wouldn't tell anybody else about a dead girl's ghost acting as his guide.

Fuji nodded, looking quite concentrated in spite of the exhaustion threatening to pull him under. Yes, his eyes opened wide when Tezuka described Yumiko's unexpected arrival, and he tilted his head, listening to his friend describe her actions as precisely as his memory allowed.

Tezuka himself felt himself relaxing. It was odd to give words to that paranormal experience, yet having Fuji sit there, nodding contemplatively, did a lot to sooth his frazzled nerves. Because, at least, to somebody else it seemed his words were making sense.

So, even though ratio told him not to, Tezuka gave in to his curiosity and asked Fuji after a short silence: "Do you know … what she did?"

Blinking because he hadn't quite expected a question when Tezuka hadn't completed his summary yet, Fuji turned to look at Tezuka. Smiling wearily, he sighed.

"I think I have an idea. But…" coughs interrupted him once again "… it would be clearer if you told me what happened afterwards."

Tezuka complied, fists unconsciously clenching around the fabric of his hospital issue gown, as he recalled the little ghost's entrance on the scene. How that door had opened so painfully slow, with tiny, whitish fingers reaching around the frame…

Amane's confusion turning into bloody determination. His own puzzlement.

Everything seemed less horrifying putting it into words here and now, Tezuka noted absentmindedly, within the hospital's clinical light, tales of ghosts lost all their credibility. But if he turned to look out of the window, into the pitch black darkness of the night, he could feel the cold crawling down his back once more, he could recall the icy night air on his skin again; icy in contrast to the warm blood that had been dripping from his own body…

And when Tezuka had ended his tale Fuji looked pale, paler perhaps than before. A painful stab at his heart made Tezuka consider postponing all explanations until the next morning, but then, tomorrow there'd be doctors and nurses around, family members and other people who'd declare them insane if they heard them talking of ghosts. There'd be the sun up outside; there'd be another day gone by – because, Tezuka could tell, with each passing hour those sensations lost their feeling of reality.

Maybe, if he didn't keep reminding himself, he'd think he'd dreamed everything in a year's time…

"I think…" Fuji's soft, contemplative voice drew Tezuka from his own thoughts, "I think I understand."

Flashing a weary smile at Tezuka, Fuji sat up straighter. "What Nee-san did, well… you know what the ghosts intended to do, no?"

Feeling eerily like a student, Tezuka nodded obediently. "I may not be an expert on this subject, but they said they wanted to, well, revive themselves and to be more powerful than before."

"And therefore, they needed to complete a spell." Fuji contributed, looking rather grim, "To be honest, the spell was nothing spectacular – it was only quite old, so neither Nee-san nor I actually remembered it when trying to figure out the ghosts' intentions."

Tezuka could only helpless frown at Fuji's remark. At least Fuji had heard of it. He himself hadn't even considered ghosts as a part of reality until barely five days ago.

"The spell required a certain number of souls and that I suppose is the reason, why there was the rumour about a curse lasting on that house." Tezuka concluded, slightly unsure if he understood the connections correctly.

But Fuji didn't protest. "Yes." He had to take a deep breath to stifle another onset of coughs here. "Not just any souls though, but those of persons who died either in the house or on the compound. …Because even though they were not necessarily bound to that house, they had made it the centre of that spell some 400years ago…"

"And so the rumour came to be …" Tezuka concluded, voice heavy with dread, "So we entered the scene around the time when their soul collection was almost completed."

Another nod from Fuji. "Yes, they were only missing one and, well, a vessel. We almost served them both on a silver platter."

"The little girl who died, was the last soul needed, then. And you…" Tezuka swallowed. Talking about the events, rationalizing them and viewing them from a detached perspective worked wonderfully – yet the moment the 'you' left his lips, the moment he once again envisioned that scene in the cellar – darkness pressing in from all sides, cold iron between them – his heart faltered.

"I was supposed to be their vessel." Fuji finished and then continued with half-smile. "I didn't quite agree with that idea in the beginning, and tried unsettling their preparations which is why you found me in that secret cellar."

Tezuka swallowed, trying desperately to keep those horrifying memories at bay. "But I couldn't …"

For half a second, silence settled over the two of them; Tezuka wondering silently how much pain and trouble he could have sparred everybody, had he just succeeded back then. Remorse and guilt only started tugging at his soul, when Fuji's voice cut them through.

"Tatsunori returned and knocked you out. … You know, for a moment I thought he'd killed you, but then I noticed you were still breathing."

Fuji reached for a glass of water positioned strategically on the bedside table – his vocal chords weren't yet up to the strain of long conversations, and both of them ought to rest – but curiosity and a desire to finally complete this confusing story; to find closure, compelled them to carry on.

"So I made him promise not to harm you."

"Which was a foolish thing to do." Tezuka replied, harsher then intended, and gripped Fuji's hand tighter to show, that it was worry that caused his criticism. Fuji looked like he was about to protest, though, so Tezuka wearily shook his head, indicating that they could discuss this point at another time.

Fuji, however, only weekly shrugged his shoulders. "That is about the last thing I remember. But, according to your version, they started the ceremony and had more or less completed it, when my sister entered the scene."

"She said something about not being able to undo the whole spell, but … I apologize, I didn't quite understand what she was saying, so I'm incapable of telling you…"

"Never mind. You said, that one girl's ghost – probably the girl who drowned – showed up."

Tezuka nodded, pulling himself up a little straighter in his chair. The late hour was beginning to eat away at his energy reserves, but his mind was longing for an explanation – anything, that he wouldn't be seeing senseless nightmares tonight.

"I guess…" Fuji set out, "I guess Nee-san sort of 'substracted' one soul from the spell and more or less made the entire thing collapse."

"That makes sense. It would explain why they were that set on getting another soul." Tezuka agreed.

"Which in the end, made Amane try to kill you. However, since she didn't know about the condition I had imposed, it backfired. The moment she won that soul she lost her vessel…"

Once again, an odd feeling crawled up Tezuka's chest. There was the horror of that night; fear and dread and terror, but underneath it all, beneath all the cruelty, the murders and the bloodshed, the reason for everything, Fujiwara Amane's and Tatsunori Ichirou's ultimate triumph and downfall at the same time – love.

It might only have been a split second, but Tezuka had seen it in their faces, had seen that one, honest emotion play there and understood, that no matter how evil their pretences, how callous their actions – they had retained a central part of their humanity.

And maybe…

A cold, icy cold shudder ran down his spine.

Maybe that pin had missed any fatal spots on purpose…

The conclusion, the implications – Tezuka didn't dare thinking any further. Because, if this was true, if Fujiwara Amane had indeed done so, then …

"Nee, Kunimitsu…"

The soft voice cracked, unexpectedly and Tezuka's eyes shot up in time to see Fuji shudder violently. Blue eyes, brimming with tears, were returning his astonished gaze, a myriad of emotions swirling within.

"Thank you." Fuji whispered hoarsely, "Thank you. If you hadn't been there I …"

Shaking his head as if he couldn't believe it himself, Fuji continued. "I wouldn't have survived the ordeal."

Tezuka instinctively bit his lip. He'd told Fuji the whole story, yes, the whole story until he'd followed the girl to the lake and everything had gone wrong and he'd ended up with a hair pin in his stomach.

But not a word about his strange encounter with Fuji as a ghost.

Or his confession.

"Kunimitsu?" Fuji tentatively called out, "Is everything alright?"

Maybe it was exhaustion, maybe something else, but within a heartbeat, all the sensations that had crossed Tezuka's soul within the last five days resurfaced at once; in a surge so powerful it left his rational mind in shambles and he leaned forward.

Leaned forward and drew Fuji into his arms, who only gasped in surprise, before melting into the tight embrace. He ought to have been at least confused about Tezuka's atypical behaviour, if not by the way Tezuka clung to him, like drowning man to his lifeline.

Yet for the first time since almost 24 hours ago, his overloaded brain slowed down; spinning wheels losing speed, disrupted thoughts gently fitting themselves together again and his nerves could finally calm down.

Fuji was save and sound in his arms, sick and weak perhaps, but alive and breathing – Tezuka could feel each breath the delicate figure in his arms drew. The flimsy material of the hospital gown let him feel each bone as if he had direct skin contact, even though in reality, only their cheeks were touching. And while Fuji's was unnaturally warm – most certainly due to a fever – it was much, much better than the cold.

Other than last night, this time in his arms, Fuji was alive.

With a soft, almost relieved sigh, Fuji leaned forward, burying his face in the crook of Tezuka's neck and closed his eyes. Completely entrusting himself to his friend, he couldn't help but marvel at the change that had overcome his ever-so-stoic friend. Yet, Fuji smiled softly, this was a good kind of change.

Because maybe…

Just maybe…

The previously unspeakable had a chance now.

* * *

Thank you very much for reading, and please drop a review if you have time.


	23. Chapter 23

**Ghost Hunt**

* * *

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Further warnings: focussed entirely on Fuji and Tezuka

Author is no native English speaker (always glad to accept corrections)

Angst

First of all: Thank you very much to everyone who reviewed. As this story is nearing its end (only the epilogue after this), there is one suggestion I'd like to make.

As I have been thinking about writing some sort of an 'omake', but am lacking enough ideas, I'd like to ask my readers what kind of scene(s) they thought was missing within the fic. Please feel free to request anything you like; I'll try my best to write it. It only ought to be a scene set within the boundaries of this fic and please mind that it should be a scene, nothing that would require too much framework…

Anyways, just tell me within your review what you'd like to see (if you request something rated R and above I'll post that sketch to livejournal however, but don't worry, I'll post the link there on , too).

Thank you all a lot, again.

* * *

Now, as for the reviews themselves:

CrystalKitteN-MeW: Congratulations for managing to read all chapters at once. That must have taken quite some time, I guess. Anyways, I'm very glad to hear you liked it and well, about the confession… there's one last step Tezuka-buchou still has to take.

Faith lane: Well, here is the next chapter, even if it took very long this time around. But well, real life got in the way and I can't make any guarantees for the last chapter, but it's definitely coming. And how our protagonists end up… well, all will be revealed in due time.

Lawli-chan: bows All chapters at once – I don't think I could have managed that myself. And wow, thanks for that extra-long review (and for all the compliments melts). Anyways, I'm glad the mood came across as intended and then I could keep you reading even though you're not a shonen-ai fan. (... it's an acquired taste, I think, and I thought adding too much of a romance on top of the already packed plot would plainly be too much...). Anyways, I hope you'll enjoy the rest of the story, too.

Speadee: The explanation was long overdue, wasn't it? But there's still one more explanation, that will have to wait until the epilogue. Anyways, about the hairpin; while I have little to no medical knowledge I wasn't thinking of something small and sleek, but of the ornamental, 20cm with a sharp point variety. …

Sango Hikari: Well, here be the Regulars, then. Regrettably without a whole lot of TezuFuji, but I think that chapter would have topped the 5000words mark had I added another scene. But they'll get more screentime in the epilogue. Hope you enjoy this chapter meanwhile!

Yoshikochan: Hehe, I still have one special plan for the protagonists, their feelings and one of the still-missing explanations. Not within the following chapter, though, but for the epilogue… I really hope you'll like it.

Gin no Tsubasa: … I wouldn't know if the regulars dared to call them crazy (aloud). But I do think everybody would be pretty taken aback if Tezuka suddenly started talking about ghosts in the same tone, as about, tennis. No, they found another explanation…

A1y-puff: Glad you like the last chapter (I liked writing it, too, even though I'm usually not doing to good on romance). And well, the encounter that Fuji doesn't remember but Tezuka does far too well will have consequences…

Dark Reborn: Uh, the update is somewhat late, sorry about that. And well, the end is inevitable. Though, I hope the epilogue (not this chapter, though) won't leave you dissatisfied. Anyways, thank you!

* * *

**21. Andante Sostenuto**

Monday morning came and passed with barely anything extraordinary happening. Thanks to his inner clockwork, Tezuka woke up at quarter to six in the morning, before noticing, that there was no alarm clock ringing, and that, anyways, the glaring red letters were on the other side of the room.

Squinting slightly, it didn't take him very long to recollect his position and with one last glance towards the oppressing darkness outside of the window, he turned over with a grim smile on his face. Seeing that dreary, cold (and most probably rather wet) darkness out there, he didn't mind sleeping in while the others had to go to school.

He couldn't quite sleep too long, either, because the first doctor came by to see him at quarter past eight, and after that nurses came and left, took blood samples, brought test results, changed the bandages wrapped securely around his stomach, until finally, around midday, the head physician showed up personally to bring him the "good news".

"You can go home tonight." the man was saying, very aware of Tezuka Ayana hopefully hanging onto his every word, "If you promise me to go straight to bed and avoid any kind of strenuous activity within the next few days."

Tezuka nodded obediently, though he couldn't quite bring himself to smile. While he most certainly would be glad to go home and leave the hospital – and all other reminders of that nightmare – behind, he couldn't quite keep from wondering how Fuji was faring.

"Strenuous activities include…" the doctor was explaining – more for Ayana's sake then Tezuka's "Lifting heavy things, and, of course, sports, but even simple actions like climbing stairs could be too much currently."

Was Fuji's condition improving? Or had their late night conversation actually made things worse? Tezuka had been so relieved to be finally able to talk to his friend, to straighten the story out and cast of the horrible images still haunting his mind that he'd only remembered too late that Fuji's status was rather delicate.

It had only occurred to him when he'd stood up to leave. Fuji had muttered a weak, sleepy good-night, closed his eyes and instantly fallen asleep. Tezuka had lingered for a moment, studied that beautiful, pale face and the slightly strained expression, now, that Fuji wasn't awake to hide everything behind a gentle smile.

He'd unconsciously reached out and brushed away a few silky strands – the affectionate gesture he hadn't dared to do when Fuji had been awake, to afraid of those feelings he still was afraid to name even within the borders of his own mind.

Even thought Fuji hadn't seemed disinclined…

But then, Fuji was an affectionate person; seeing how he interacted with his brother or Eiji. And Fuji did not even remember that confession, so there was no telling whether he believed them to be any more than friends.

Anyways, Tezuka concluded, it would be best to wait until Fuji had recovered from the worst. Maybe time would bring an answer.

"… consequently I think it would be best to wait until the middle of the week before going to school. Depending on whether the stitches cause any discomfort or the healing process is disturbed, that date can be altered, of course."

The doctor had obviously noted Tezuka's mental excursion and proceeded to explain his condition in detail to his attentively listening mother.

"Concerning sports however, he should at least wait until the stitches are removed…"

This meant no tennis within the next two weeks.

Tezuka swallowed. He couldn't quite remember a time when he hadn't hit a ball for such a long time. And that was not even considering what this forced break was going to do to his skills.

Or the team. With both him and Fuji out of action, though luckily, the next competitive match was still three weeks away. Still, he could only pray at least one of them recovered in time.

When Tezuka mentally returned to the conversation at hand, his mother and the doctors had already progressed to exchanging some final pleasantries, which wasn't quite an unwelcome development. Even though the doctor had brought mainly good news, the verdict concerning his tennis activities … stung.

"One last thing, if it's not too much of a bother…" Ayana way saying and the voice of her tone made Tezuka look over in surprise. The doctor nodded, indicating for her to go ahead.

"I wonder if you do know anything about the condition of the other two brought in together with my son…"

The doctor sighed, and Ayana – taking the sigh for one of annoyance – immediately tried to wave the question of.

"I was only wondering, so if you aren't allowed to tell me for legal reasons, please don't bother."

"Well, I'll hazard a guess that you already know what condition both of them were in yesterday." the doctor replied with a gentle smile, and seeing both Tezuka and his mother nod, he continued, "The girl's condition is unchanged; but the boy is improving a little."

At those words, Tezuka released a breath he hadn't know he'd been holding. But somehow, subconsciously, he kept remembering that night and the horror floated back together with the memories and he couldn't quite keep the worry from his mind.

Even know, after hearing the doctor's words, he still felt a bit of tension remaining in the pit of his stomach. The only moment his mind had really calmed down had been last night, when he'd been sitting at Fuji's bedside – when he'd been holding onto that small form, when he'd been able to hear that heartbeat with his own ears.

Maybe he'd be able to visit after he'd been discharged…

Staring out to the torrents of rain streaming down the windowpane, blurring the foggy grey outside out of any real shape, he only vaguely heard his mother and the doctor leave, even though his mother promised to be back soon.

There were still so many, many questions haunting his mind.

And, so strangely fitting to admit this on a rainy November afternoon when brown, skeletal trees were bending like macabre dancers in the wind, his heart.

What was he feeling for Fuji?

A deep kind of friendship?

Affection? Infatuation? Love?

And what was he going to do about? And the consequences, and his parents, and his friends, and the school, the neighbours, the world – and most of all, Fuji. What was the ever-smiling boy actually feeling?

The same? Or had nothing changed over those last five days? Or…

A gentle knock pulled Tezuka out of his contemplations that were getting darker by minute, as was the sky outside. It wasn't even quite 5 o'clock yet, but outside night had almost completely fallen.

"Come in, please." Tezuka loudly declared, wondering who'd be knocking that tentatively.

The door opened slowly and a familiar head poked around the corner, looking rather stressed and nervous.

"Tezuka?" Oishi carefully asked, paling spectacularly at the scene in front of him, "Is… is it okay to bother?"

Seeing firm, unshakeable Tezuka Kunimitsu seated onto a hospital bed made the until-now unbelievable story real. He hadn't quite wanted to believe it when he'd first heard – nobody had wanted to, actually. Even Ryuuzaki-sensei had looked disturbed, when she'd broken the news to the team during morning practice, and the ride here had felt surreal. Oishi had kept getting visions of the front desk personnel telling him, that he must have gotten something wrong, there was nobody called either Tezuka Kunimitsu or Fuji Syusuke currently in this hospital.

"Nya, Oishi, how is he?" a second, well-known voice drawled behind Seigaku's vice-captain's back.

Tezuka nodded at Oishi and gestured for him to come in, and stop hovering in the doorframe.

"We – I, I mean, we, that is, Ryuuzaki-sensei told us, to… I mean, that, you… you and Fuji…"

"Oishi-senpai, calm down!" another background voice helpfully advised and Tezuka schooled his features into his usual, inscrutable expression – though on the inside, he was smiling. It felt like it had been an eternity since he'd heard those familiar voices.

"Fshuu, leave Oishi-senpai alone!"

"Oh, who asked you?"

"… minna, this is a hospital, please don't quarrel…"

Oishi was growing paler by minute. He'd known making a sick visit with the entire team was a bad idea, but nobody had listened, everybody had wanted to go and they'd convinced him and now they were making noise in a hospital and bringing germs and...

"Oishi? Nya? What's wrong?"

Banishing the smile that was creeping onto his lips from his face, Tezuka decided to take over – even though watching the chaos that was his tennis team grow was heart-warming. It brought back a piece of that normal, day-to-day life he'd learned to appreciate within the last few days.

"Please come in everybody!"

In his best '20 laps!' voice, too.

Of course, everybody couldn't help but obey. Yet only, until they'd dutifully filled into the room and closed the door.

"Buchou…"

"How are you?"

"How did that happen? Actually, what happened?"

"Is this related to your elbow? Because otherwise the probability for you to obtain any injury that would need hospital care is almost zero, though I'll have to alter my calculations…"

"How long will you have to stay here? Is the food they're serving any good?"

"Will that influence the training?"

"… my, that green is one ugly colour."

"And who asked you?"

"…what happened to Fuji?"

"Everybody CALM DOWN!"

Ah, Tezuka thought, this is how things ought to be. Even though it's cold and rainy outside, as long as this remains unchanged, it's alright.

He'd never expected to become so fond of his team's antics, but now, after that night of ghosts and spells and biting, bitter cold, there was nothing more soothing for his poor soul than a good dose of everyday chaos.

The team was a welcome spot of colour against the hospital whites and sky greys, Eiji's vibrant hair, Kaidou's bandana, Echizen's cap and even Inui's trusty notebook. All of them had no clue what had transpired over the weekend, had no idea of how close everything had been – and, best of all, at least in Tezuka's current mindset,

Those seven people populating his small hospital room would only blink in disbelief if somebody told them that a ghost was the reason.

For them, reality was still clear-cut and well-defined, holding no ambiguous spaces for the possible existence of ghosts and suchlike. They held none of that cursed knowledge…

"Say, buchou, what did you and Fuji-senpai actually do?" Momoshirou's loud, inquiring voice drew Tezuka out of his contemplations; back to the reality of Oishi's worried glances, Inui's interested scribbling and Eiji curiously examining the hospital room's inventory.

"They also might have had their accidents individually…" Inui commented from behind his notebook, "The only reason indicating that there might be a connection would be the fact that they are currently at the same hospital, yet when considering that Fuji has already been ill before, one could also conclude that only Tezuka has encountered an accident, while Fuji's condition worsened."

"Eh…" Momoshirou mumbled, stunned, "Well, yes. … So, buchou, …eh, well, what happened to you?"

"But you don't need to tell us if you don't want to, Tezuka!" Oishi hurriedly added, "Really, we're curious, but if you don't want to tell us, we'll understand, so don't worry!"

"That's okay." Tezuka interrupted, before anyone else could cut in. "And Momoshirou, you were right, Fuji and me were in the same accident."

"Ii data." A voice from the background muttered, but Tezuka continued unfazed, "Even though, as Inui previously said, Fuji had already been ill before, so the accident was harder on him than on me."

It wasn't the entire truth, but close enough.

Dimly Tezuka wondered if it wouldn't be nicer if he could tell his team the entire truth, instead of keeping everything a secret. Locked away in his mind, so that it could always return to haunt him…

But no, things were fine as they were. As long as the team remained removed from everything 'abnormal', they could be his personal charm. Because as long as they distracted him, surrounded him, the images from that one horror-filled night seemed far, far away. Like a movie he'd seen ages ago…

"Nya, so that's why they wouldn't let us see Fuji…" Eiji muttered, thoughtfully staring at the ceiling.

"Have you seen him yet, Tezuka?" Inui asked, over the frantic scribbling of his pencil.

Tezuka only nodded and Eiji immediately rounded up on him. "Really? How is he? Is he okay, nya? I hope it's not too bad – I really wanted to go and see him…"

"He's as well as can be, considering the circumstances." Tezuka bluntly replied and everybody fell silent. The rain knocking against the window was the only sound, until Kaidou tentatively raised his voice.

"But he is … Fuji-senpai isn't… isn't in critical condition, is he?"

For those few heartbeats, the tension filling the room was thick enough to be cut with a knife. Some of the dreary, chilling atmosphere from the outside seemed to creep into the room; it was as if the temperature had dropped several degrees within those few words.

Even Inui's pen had stopped moving and now was hovering over another blank line, waiting for the verdict.

"He isn't." Tezuka replied, wondering if he was giving out foolish reassurances. Because when he recalled that night, when he'd been holding that cold, small, unmoving body in his arms, saying that Fuji was okay was not even an euphemism. It was an outright lie.

Eiji audibly released a breath and Kawamura muttered something that sounded like "I'm glad", but was lost beneath the general shuffling. Oishi's shoulders slumped and he turned to Tezuka with a forced half-smile.

"That must have been quite an accident you two had. I'm glad you got out of it alright."

"Yeah, me too." Momoshirou said.

"Yes. But what exactly happened?" Echizen asked.

With an inward sigh, Tezuka recounted the story, as he'd told them the doctor. "My family recently inherited an old house and we went to have a look at it. The house is in rather poor condition however and one of the older staircases gave in under our weight…"

"That could have ended far worse." Kawamura offered, eyeing the patch on Tezuka's forehead worriedly and everybody nodded. Even though Tezuka registered a suspicious glance directed at him from Inui, since the data player obviously was more than aware of the fact that 'fallen down a staircase' was one of the most popular excuses.

And had Inui been able to see underneath the bandages, then he would have known, that Tezuka's injuries hardly could have stemmed from a collapsed staircase.

But the rest of the team believed the explanation. And Tezuka was rather thankful for it.

"How long will you have to stay in the hospital?" Oishi asked, changing the topic and drawing everybody's thoughts away from the gruesome images of what-also-could-have-happened.

"This morning the doctor said that I might get discharged tonight."

"Really? That's great, nya!" Eiji spontaneously exclaimed, joined by Momoshirou and Kaidou nodded vigorously.

"It's strange, practice without buchou." Kawamura added, laughing lightly.

"We're all looking forward to have you back, Tezuka." Oishi carried on, a warm, honest smile on his face, "We were pretty frightened when Ryuuzaki-sensei told us something happened to you and Fuji earlier today."

"You should have seen Oishi, nya!" Eiji threw in, "He would have walked to class without getting changed if I hadn't reminded him!"

"Not that Eiji-senpai was any better." Momoshirou commented, "Class must have been difficult without Fuji-senpai, or so I heard."

"… you aren't being a nice and obedient kouhai, Momo. Really not."

"I only learned from the best, isn't that true, Echizen?"

"Mada mada."

"Nya, you're not nice. From now on, Kaidou will be my favourite kouhai, won't you, Kaoru-chan?"

"…"

Kaidou spontaneously blushed a lovely, tomato red, stuttered something incomprehensible and had they been on the court, he'd have turned and run laps.

"So when will you be back?" Kawamura asked, ignoring the building conflict between Kaidou and Momoshirou, since latter had just called former a 'suck-up'.

"Towards the end of the week perhaps." Tezuka replied, "But I'll only overlook practice then. I can't participate until the stitches get pulled."

To any outsider, Tezuka's facial expression didn't change the least. To somebody familiar with Seigaku's buchou however, the tone plainly spelled sulking. And that would have surprised Oishi very much, had his attention not been directed somewhere else.

"Stitches?" Oishi called out, looking shocked, "What did you need stitches for?"

"When we were walking up the stairs, I was carrying some knick-knacks, and I ended up landing on some…"

"Ouch." Momoshirou commented, temporarily forgetting about Kaidou.

"Did the same happen to Fuji?" Eiji worriedly inquired.

Tezuka shook his head. "No, it's only that he had been sick previously that made his situation worse."

"Can't we go and see him?"

"Eiji!" Oishi admonished sternly, but Kikumaru Eiji employed his best puppy-eye look. While that itself had as little effect on Tezuka as Kawamura's hopeful glance, he couldn't quite deny his own desire to go and see his team mate.

"We can go there and ask." Tezuka declared resolutely, throwing back the bed cover and reaching for a bathrobe.

* * *

It felt rather awkward to be wearing a hospital gown, bathrobe and using crutches, while his team mates where all clad in their school uniforms as they walked down the white-washed corridors. And the nurse on the entrance to Fuji's station looked rather displeased at the number of people Tezuka arrived together with.

Pressing her lips, she looked gravely at Tezuka.

"Can't we see him?" Eiji asked, interrupting the silence; and everybody could hear his voice tremble. It reflected far too well what Tezuka felt. Had it only been the number of people, the nurse would already have told him.

That expression in her eyes however spoke of something else.

"I'm very sorry." She eventually begun, "The patient you're here to see... He's currently in a medially induced sleep, so you won't be able to talk to him. If you still want to visit, though, I can take you along."

"Of course." Eiji replied from behind Oishi's left shoulder, while Tezuka only nodded firmly. Seeing the concerned faces of the young boys in front of her, the nurse couldn't help but smile.

"Come along, please." Opening the door, she let them in and led them along another maze of white corridors. There were far fewer people around here and, Tezuka noticed, they weren't going to the same room where Fuji had been last night.

What did that mean?

Had Fuji's condition worsened overnight? But the doctor this morning had said nothing had changed, so why…?

Eventually the nurse stopped in front of a door with a broad window, which she strategically blocked from view.

"If you want to enter, you can do so, of course, but you'd need to change your clothes and disinfect your hands first; and I'd actually recommend for you to stay outside and look in."

"Why?" Momoshirou asked from the back, pale-faced, wondering how serious Fuji's condition really was.

"It's nothing too bad, honestly." The nurse smiled warmly, seeing the almost-frightened faced of the teenagers in front of her, "The boy has only been quite sick and as his immune system is already weakened, we don't want to risk a secondary infection. And he's been put to sleep to give his body a chance to recover faster, so please don't worry, your friend will be getting healthy again."

With those words, she stepped away from the window and Eiji was the first to step forward and look into the room. There was no loud exclamation, and Eiji didn't look anymore shaken than before, when he stepped back for the next person and Tezuka wondered what that meant.

Seigaku's captain strategically waited until everybody had looked until he himself stepped forward. The reactions had differed; especially Echizen appeared paler than before, while Inui was almost unfazed. Oishi had only swallowed, nodded and acknowledged, that the situation could be worse.

He was holding his breath, when he stepped forward.

The room was as white as any other hospital room, a bit smaller perhaps, lacking the table and chair for visitors. And there was far more machinery surrounding the hospital bed, dwarfing Fuji even more.

There wasn't much visible of Seigaku's singles two player, anyways.

Most of his face was hidden beneath an oxygen mask that spontaneously sent shivers down Tezuka's back. The sight of Fuji still, pale and lifeless brought back the memories and it was with a shudder that he tore his eyes away.

If he couldn't grasp Fuji's hand and feel a pulse for himself, couldn't reassure him; then he couldn't watch. Teasingly the images resurfaced; how black the lake's surface had been behind Fuji's translucent form; the soft rustle of falling leaves, the biting cold, Fuji's far-too-pale face, blood-stained kimono sleeves…

"Can I go in?" Tezuka impulsively asked the nurse.

Momoshiro turned in surprise, but the nurse nodded. Before she could turn and get a disinfected overcoat for Tezuka, Oishi interrupted.

"We'll get going then." He said for the team, even if Eiji looked as if he wanted to protest. Somehow, Oishi seemed to have understood Tezuka's need to go in there. And to go in there alone.

"Get better soon, Tezuka!"

Albeit a little confused as to the abrupt parting of ways, most of the team agreed without a protest.

"Get well, buchou!"

"Hope we'll see you soon!"

And then, they were gone. Tezuka was left together with a benignly smiling nurse who handed him the green, plastic overcoat and guided him to a washbasin.

"You've got nice friends." She commented, "And don't worry, your other friend here will be getting better, soon too. Anyways, I guess, you'll want to spend some time in there… so just come to the nurse office when you're ready to go."

It was only about three hours later, when Tezuka's parents had arrived to pick their son up from the hospital and the doctor had already signed his discharge, that everybody started wondering where the boy in question actually was.

They discovered him only a little while later, deep asleep beside Fuji. And Tezuka Ayana couldn't help but smile when she saw their entwined hands.

Maybe that entire affair, horrid as it had been, had also brought something good.

* * *

Thank you for reading! Please tell me what you think, what mistakes you found and, as mentioned above, what scenes you'd still like to see.


	24. Chapter 24

**Ghost Hunt**

* * *

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Further warnings: focussed entirely on Fuji and Tezuka

Author is no native English speaker (always glad to accept corrections)

Angst

As for reviews:

Speadee: I'm glad to hear you liked how that chapter turned out, especially since it was one of the few chapters that I had to write from scratch. About Fuji's parents – they're both abroad during the events of this story; so consequently, they don't get any screen time. And whether the regulars believe the story about the collapsing stairs – I don't think they do (like you said, especially Inui is unlikely to), but the majority simply doesn't ask any further questions and Tezuka isn't going to tell them the truth anytime soon.

Dimonyo-anghel: Thanks, and well, I hope things are looking a little better in this chapter. Though, concerning Yumiko and the ghost girl; they'll still have to wait for one more chapter.

Yoshikochan: Thanks for your review, and well, I somehow can't seem to end this fic. Originally, the following was supposed to be the epilogue already, but when looking it over, I spontaneously decided to turn it into a chapter and do something else for an epilogue. And well, as for Tezuka and Fuji and their relationship… I hope the following chapter meets your expectations.

Rikkaidailuvr: Thanks for reviewing and I really hope you'll like the rest of this story.

CrystalKitteN-MeW: Oh my, you're completely right; 'medially' was supposed to be 'medically' (this is what happens when you write too late at night…). Thanks for pointing that one out to me. And as for a confession – I hope the following chapter can provide you with it.

A1y-puff: Well, once upon a time, the following chapter was supposed to be the epilogue. Since, however, I still have some more loose ends to tie up, the epilogue will only come after this chapter. And then, finally the omake and other scenes I'll try to do something refreshing there.

Faith lane: More in their relationship – well, I hope the following chapter will give you just that. Thanks for reviewing and waiting (… I've gotten slow…)

Sango Hikari: I'm glad you liked the last chapter, and hope you'll like the following one, too. Anyways, I'll try and make some short scenes out of your suggestions and well, about a sequel… there are a couple of ideas I'm toying with, but it will be some time, until I post anything. (my schedule is eating me currently, so I don't nearly have as much time as I wish I had for writing)

Syusuke01: I'm glad you like this fic; and well, while it was fun writing it, there's always something very satisfying about putting the words 'The End' underneath a text. Though, there are still some more scenes to go; and I'm not going to stop writing after this either.

Everybody, thank you very, very much for reviewing. And as a sort of 'thank you' from me to you, I added one more chapter to this fic, meaning this is not yet the epilogue.

Now, without further ado, please enjoy!

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**22. Cantate**

A thick layer of snow was covering the grounds on a Thursday morning almost two weeks later, when Tezuka, wrapped in his warmest coat, walked to school. The air was clear and icy, just to his likening. From now on it would probably be too cold for rain, and honestly, he'd had enough of the rain anyways.

Seeing the white grounds before him rendered the world an unusual tranquile, covering dirt and smoothing the edges. Everything was beautiful to behold, white and still and winter holidays were just around the corner.

Trudging forward, he buried himself deeper into his warm winter clothes, grateful for having chosen a thicker scarf to wear today. Temperatures must have dropped dramatically over night, and the mud puddles from yesterday evening were frozen.

They'd have to hold practice indoors from now on, though they'd have to fight with the basketball team for the gym – which wasn't an activity to look forward too, but since it happened every year, Tezuka had some idea how to go about it. Furthermore, he and the basketball team's captain weren't on bad terms (not yet, maybe), so it should work out.

Lost as he was in those everyday contemplations he didn't hear the snow crunching and failed to notice a flock of ravens abruptly taking flight, or an approaching figure heading towards him among snow-covered trees.

"Good morning."

A gentle voice he hadn't heard in far too long said.

Tezuka turned and found Fuji smiling sweetly at him. His friend looked still too white and not entirely healthy, but far better than the last time they'd seen each other. Even when Fuji had finally been discharged from the hospital, he had still been far too weak and sickly to Tezuka's likening. There had been phases, when the captain had wondered whether Fuji would recover in time for next season at all.

But now, as rain had changed into snow at last, that calm, inscrutable smile was restored.

"Good morning." Tezuka replied, carefully taking in the thick, dark coat, woollen scarf and matching gloves. He hoped they were as warm as they looked, because the wind that day was beyond chilly.

Generally, Fuji could use a little more weight, otherwise Momoshirou's serve would knock him of his feet next season. But, all in all … when he recalled what had happened…

Closing his eyes he tried to block out the memories assaulting his mind, but he couldn't shake the flashes of alien voices, an extravagant kimono and blood stains. The horrible coughing that had left his friend to weak to even stand…

"How are you?" he heard himself asking and Fuji smiled, pleasantly surprised at Tezuka taking the initiative.

"Far better, thank you." Fuji smiled, genuinely happy. That he was stifling a cough behind a gloved hand did nothing to reassure Tezuka, who raised an eyebrow and frowned.

"Really." Fuji chuckled, answering an unasked question, but the chuckles too turned into coughing. He had to stop there, bend over and wait for the fit to pass until he could speak again. With worry Tezuka observed that the little colour he previously held had once again completely drained from Fuji's face.

"That cold is annoyingly persistent." Fuji explained with a sunny smile, that seemed even brighter in their whitened environment.

"But you're all right?" Tezuka asked, implying events beyond a mere cold. He wished he could cross that week just out of his calendar, but it had happened – after all, he still sported bruises to prove it. And Yumiko wasn't out of hospital either…

"About that?" Fuji asked, tilting his head and turning his steps once again into the direction of school. "Yes, Nee-san did a good job back there."

Recalling the pale woman resting in a hospital bed miles away, Tezuka swallowed, feeling oddly responsible. "How is she?"

Compassion wasn't his metier, but he tried his best anyways. And judging from Fuji's pleased expression, his attempt was well-received.

"No change, but that's not too bad." Fuji actually smiled softly, while Tezuka wondered how he managed to hold up with his sister basically at death's door.

"It was a rather violent thing she did there – one that took a lot of power so she'll be out for a little longer, still. Ne, it's not bad, Tezuka. We've had situations like that before, so Yuuta and I know what to expect and if we need to start worrying."

"But the doctors…"

"The doctors declared her comatose which is to the extent of their knowledge exactly correct. But I'm rather sure she's going to wake up within the next two or three weeks. So don't worry, Tezuka, everything is going to be all right."

For a couple of minutes they kept walking besides each other, with only the sound of fresh snow crunching underneath their feet and Fuji's muffled coughing for company. It was nice, this fresh, biting air and the silence of the early morning with only very few cars on the road.

A cold wind was blowing in even darker, greyer clouds, tearing off the last, long-since withered brown leaves and the smell of snow filled the air. Winter's first salutation had turned the world into a black and white photograph, where only Fuji's eyes retained their sparkling, vibrant colour.

The park they were crossing on their way to school was completely empty this morning. Overnight snowfall had kept even the most ambitious joggers at home at least until the ways had been cleared and most students wouldn't pass here until about an hour later. As of now, the snow was undisturbed; a smooth white surface, only broken by the blackish silhouettes of leafless trees and bushes.

A raven cawed overhead and for some reason Fuji slowed his steps.

Worried, Tezuka, too slowed down. If Fuji was feeling unwell, he would better return home, perhaps…

"Ne, Tezuka…" Fuji tentatively set out, "There is one thing…"

Tezuka stopped and turned to look at the smaller student beside him. Even wrapped in several layers Fuji looked small, delicate even, as he subconsciously pulled at a few hairs the wind kept blowing into his face.

"There is one thing I still don't quite understand about that night."

He flashed a half-mast smile at Tezuka, but those blue eyes were serious, even if they only shortly met Tezuka's before turning away, landing upon a couple of ravens hopping along the ground on their quest for food.

Tezuka tilted his head, silently indicating for Fuji to continue. He doubted he'd be of any help, but he'd try at least. This would be his way of expressing his feelings, he had decided. Fuji's condition as of now he deemed as far too fragile to be bothered by further emotional confusion; so the best thing Tezuka could do was to support his friend wherever he could.

"_Love is about making the one you love happy."_ His mother had once told him, and even though Tezuka was grown up enough to have realized that love wasn't quite that altruistic and in it's nature already included quite a good deal of selfishness, that sentiment was what he would hold onto now.

Because, as long as he didn't know how Fuji felt or whether this wasn't just a passing infatuation on his part, it was the best thing he could do.

"… it's a bit difficult since I don't remember anything after they'd finished that ceremony…" Fuji was saying, "… but … well, there's …"

A forced chuckled and all Tezuka wanted to do was reach out, embrace him and tell him not to worry anymore.

"It's only a little odd that I'm still alive."

Fuji managed to look at Tezuka just in that moment, that all blood left Seigaku's buchou's face and his expression, for a split second only, escaped his tight control. Shock made him open his eyes wide, but his heart felt like it had stopped beating.

"I mean…" Fuji hurried to explain, turning away again as if the silent landscape could help him find the right words, "Not that I'm not happy or anything, but, you know, rightfully I ought to be dead."

The words shocked Tezuka speechless. There was a lot he actually wanted to say, scream, yell, but none of his sentiments he could word properly, and that left him standing still, helpless and listening in sheer disbelief.

"That ceremony had already removed my soul from my body, which is why I don't remember anything; while, if you still recall, when she possessed me back at home, I could more or less remember everything."

Somewhere deep within, his heart, still numb from shock, started aching.

"So when Nee-san's plan worked out and Amane's soul was removed from my body too, I ought to have been dead instantly. …"

Fuji glanced down at his shoes, black against the white snow.

"… Fuji…" Tezuka finally muttered, breathless. He couldn't believe how casually his team mate was talking about his own death, how little meaning his life seemed to hold to himself.

"Nee, Tezuka." Fuji continued, meeting his friend's eyes eventually and there were a myriad of emotions pressing on his chest, "… I don't think I ever properly thanked you."

Seeing Tezuka's confused expression, a smile ghosted across Fuji's face and he subconsciously stepped closer. Less then twenty centimetres space were left between them and suddenly the cold and the wind were banned away from the sacral area.

Wide-open, completely serious blue eyes met Tezuka's, and a small hand reached out, gently stroking one cold cheek.

"Tezuka. I was dead when Amane's soul left my body. But somebody called me back."

Tezuka didn't dare to breath, realizing the soft touch only somewhere in the far back of his mind; far too mesmerized by the words Fuji was saying.

"There is only one way to call a person back that has died. Only one emotion that is strong enough – the very one Tatsunori used to make Amane's soul linger – to call a soul back. Only this one and none other."

Fuji's hand was trembling.

Darkness surged up within Tezuka's chest, somewhere beneath the shock-frozen surface an emotion akin to pain; hot and heart-wrenching grasped his soul, but within all the confusion all his mind did was to conjured up those images once again.

How cold and frail Fuji's lifeless body had felt in his arms. The desperation tearing his heart into pieces, the blood trickling from his stomach that had lost all importance, and then the frighteningly beautiful apparition in front of his disbelieving eyes.

He had wanted to see that smile again, only once, but alive and real and not faked and genuine and… he hadn't wanted to say goodbye. Not at that point, not when their shared dreams were yet unfulfilled, not when Tezuka hadn't fully grasped how precious that smaller person was to him.

And so, in that moment, he'd spoken the words.

Those three words…

Those words he seemed to be incapable of speaking again.

Tezuka opened his mouth to finally reply, but then Fuji started coughing. The fit lasted long enough to make Tezuka reach out in worry, but Fuji stumbled away. Brown hair kept his voice hidden from view and pale hands shakily procured a handkerchief.

Fuji tried his best to hide it, but Tezuka still saw the bloodstains.

"Fuji…" he said, troubled and stepped closer. His friend raised his head wearily, the smile on his lips thin and brittle. Yet when he tried to hide the handkerchief, Tezuka grabbed his wrist.

"Are you really better?" Tezuka asked, worry eating away at his soul.

And when Fuji only smiled and whispered a hoarse 'Don't worry, I'll be okay', his heart broke.

Something snapped within himself and everything came crashing down. The guilt he'd tried to deny; the guilt of having instigated everything, of having asked his friend to look at that house, to look at the ghost, to have asked for that exorcism that had wrecked Fuji's health and left his sister in a coma…

His self-control broke. He wrapped his arms around his astonished team mate, drawing him as close as possible and buried his head in Fuji's hair.

"I love you." he whispered, "I don't know how to say it, but I honestly think I'm in love with you…"

"Tezuka…" Fuji's voice was muffled, his face pressed in the crook of Tezuka's shoulder. Small, gloved hands slowly wrapped themselves around Tezuka's shoulders and Tezuka could feel each shuddering breach Fuji drew.

"Tezuka …" Fuji muttered again, voice laced with a myriad of emotions. And even if he wasn't being rejected, if Fuji hadn't even flinched at his confession, Tezuka felt as if his heart was breaking.

"I'm sorry, Fuji." Tezuka rasped, trying desperately to deny the tears burning behind closed eyelids. "I'm sorry for bothering you with this, I don't even know why…"

"Te – Kunimitsu." Fuji interrupted hoarsely, "Stop apologizing."

The soft order was astonishingly effective, and for the first time Tezuka noticed that Fuji was trembling just as badly as he was himself. Within the silence of a snow-covered park early on Thursday morning, each hitched breath sounded twice as loud.

"If it wasn't for this…" Fuji continued, close enough that Tezuka could feel his warm breath tickling his cheek.

"If it wasn't for you..." Beautiful blue eyes turned upward and caught hazel ones. Their surroundings seemed to disappear entirely and it was as if the entire world had been bleached, reduced, until only the very two of them remained

"If you didn't love me, I wouldn't have survived that night."

And even if Tezuka had wanted to say something, his throat constricted and he was unable to even pronounce a single word. The ravens, too had fallen silent; black silhouettes – like those trees – against an unnaturally white background.

"And for what it's worth…"

Fuji smiled.

The most beautiful, breath-taking smile Tezuka had ever seen in his entire life.

"I love you too."

The flock of ravens took flight, an abrupt flutter of black wings and Tezuka's eyes were wide, surprised and almost frightened. But Fuji only continued smiling, blissfully unaware of what this smile was doing to Tezuka's heart.

"I know it won't be easy…" Somewhat wistfully he once glanced around the unpopulated white plain, "And perhaps we ought to keep it a secret…"

And then, blue eyes turned back to fix Tezuka's face, a gloved hand carefully reaching out to touch a cheek reddened by the frosty air.

"But I'd like to give it a try."

Tezuka couldn't help but lean into that touch; raise his own hand and cover Fuji's smaller one with it. Even if his heart was still pounding like mad and his knees felt like pudding, for the first time in weeks he felt that shadow that had been following him, lift.

The confusion that had held his heart captive was clearing up, gently and just like that, and somehow it seemed unbelievable that the solution should be this simple.

Yet it was.

"I wouldn't mind." Tezuka replied, feeling a small smile of his own creep onto his lips; a gesture so foreign and yet heart-warming.

And upon that one, ice-cold December morning the last reminders of what happened on a rainy November night were finally cast off.

And within a silent, snow-covered landscape, Tezuka leaned down to plant a gentle kiss on Fuji's lips.

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Thank you very much for reading and if there's anything you want to criticize or comment on, please feel free to leave me a review.


	25. Chapter 25

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**Ghost Hunt**

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Disclaimer: Not mine.

Further warnings: focussed entirely on Fuji and Tezuka

Author is no native English speaker (always glad to accept corrections)

Angst

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A/N: I'm terribly sorry for taking about two month to update. bows Life somehow got in the way and the only thing that calms my conscience is that at least there was no cliff-hanger. Anyways, on to the last chapter! (I'll put the story as 'complete' now, but I'll still add the take-out scenes in the future).

A big thanks to everybody who reviewed! That meant very, very much to me and was the main reason why those 14 chapters from the first draft ended up being 23 today. Thank you.

BB: I'm very glad you liked the way the fic played out. And I hope you'll like the epilogue too, even if there's not much plot here anymore.

Kalista Jia: I couldn't make the ghosts entirely bad in the end, even though I tried in the beginning. They just ended up having a motive and actually acting nice on occasion… Thanks for reading!

CrystalKitteN-MeW: I'm afraid the action part of the story is over (but there might be some more in the take-outs) – since especially the epilogue is just, well, an epilogue sweatdrop. Thank you very much for reviewing!

Valeriana-kun: Thank you so much for reading and liking the story!

Yoshikochan: I'm glad you liked that. relieved writing romance isn't so much my thing, but I suppose practice helps. I hope I'll answer most of the remaining questions in the epilogue, though I'm afraid neither Yumiko nor the regulars will get a lot of screen time. But they're mentioned ;. Thank you very, very much for your review!

a1y-puff: Thank you very much for reviewing. It's reviews like yours that inspire these bonus chapters after all. And I had a great lot of fun with the details – especially the ravens. As for the regulars, I'm afraid they won't really show up in the epilogue, but they're mentioned; and while that's not a lot, it's a little at least. ; I hope you'll still like the epilogue, though.

Sango Hikari: If you want to draw it – please go ahead! There's another romantic scene coming up (even if the setting is morbid), and I hope you'll like it. Thank you very, very much for your review and while the sequel still might take some time, the idea is there.

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**23****. Coda**

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Fresh, white snow crunched underneath his polished black shoes.

Silence hung thick in the air, broken only by solemn footsteps and wind, as it hissed over the snow-covered landscape and barren trees. Maybe, if he strained his ears, he would be able to catch a faint sound from a car passing; a sign of life from the metropolis they hadn't even left.

Yet this remote part of the world remained utterly silent and Tezuka kept his head bowed. Nobody of their little party spoke a word and while some might have rightfully called it cold not to shed a tear at a young child's funeral, he couldn't quite help himself.

When thinking about it…

When recalling all the things that had happened…

It appeared as if his heart, too, had frozen. He could still feel the horror – ice crawling through his veins, slowly, ever so slowly but unstoppably approaching his heart and closing in – that had befallen him when his mother had told him –

- or had it already set in far earlier?

His memory was blurry, but that had to be natural, he supposed. The shock had come crashing down when his mother had told him a young girl died – just at the moment he had wished to put everything behind him.

Just after he himself had so narrowly escaped death.

Within this black and white landscape those realities appeared even more pronounced. Dimly he wondered how Fuji was fairing, so quiet and almost ghost-like beside him. Today, colour seemed to have been bleached out of him; honey-brown hair hidden underneath a black hat. And those open eyes were reflecting the grey, snow-filled clouds above, aimlessly wandering over the gravestones surrounding them.

Tezuka wanted to reach out and hold his hand.

Whether that gesture would serve to sooth the visible tension in Fuji's shoulders, assuage the feelings of guilt attacking Tezuka or something entirely else, he couldn't tell. But he was quite aware of Yuuta and a still unhealthily pale Yumiko walking behind them and thus refrained from doing as his heart desired.

She'd been discharged barely a week ago, but had insisted on coming to the funeral. Tezuka Ayana had not deemed it a good idea, but the oldest Fuji sibling had waved all worried inquiries aside with a characteristic smile.

Tezuka had yet to speak with her. He didn't really know if he wanted to, even if she would most certainly be able to answer the last of his remaining questions. But for this he'd have to face the memories of that night again.

And the memory of Fuji's deathly-still body in his arms was one he never wanted to recall.

Yumiko hadn't approached him either – only a slight, knowing smile on her lips flashed into his direction and he'd been left to wonder. How much did she know? She'd been the one to summon the girl's spirit from those that the ghosts had amassed – did that mean she knew her brother had been as good as dead?

Did she, by chance, know what had been needed for Fuji to be called back?

What Tezuka had done?

Underneath those black leather gloves, his fingers remained cold as death.

Eventually, the small group came to a stop in front of an open grave. For once, the silence was broken by an even voice directing solemn words at the group – Tezuka heard none of them.

They hadn't even known the girl. None of them had.

Still, that young, 6-year old child had died for their sake – somehow. Tezuka's mind told him, it wasn't his fault and he shouldn't feel guilty about a murder he hadn't committed – though there was this invisible thread connecting her death to his life. Hadn't she been killed, only because he'd escaped?

But then again, should he have let himself get killed so that she would have lived? And wouldn't Fuji, too, have died as a consequence?

It was a miracle, Tezuka resumed, that he hadn't broken down crying yet. But then, neither had Fuji, even if the haunted look in his eyes remained until today. Both of them were clinging onto their roles, in school and at home, and as far as Tezuka could tell none of the other regulars had noted anything amiss.

Or, at least, nobody had demanded for them to tell the truth, yet.

Tezuka himself had felt Oishi's worried glances often enough, knew what Inui was thinking when that pen stopped flying over the pages of his notebook for several seconds and a frown settled over the dataman's features.

And he had little doubt Kawamura, concerned as he always was for Fuji's well-being, had missed the lingering paleness of his friend's face, or that Kikumaru would have failed to note all those times Fuji's smile had faded.

But maybe, maybe after today's funeral procession had finished, they would be able to leave this behind.

The urn was being lowered when Tezuka's mind returned to the present. There weren't even ten people gathered around the grave; not one a member of the girl's family. Until the end there hadn't been a missing person notice fitting her description – and Tezuka had to wonder which was sadder; that she had died that young and violently, or that her family obviously had cared so little.

Another cold gust of wind brought the unmistakable smell of snow. The clouds appeared even darker than before and Tezuka couldn't quite suppress a small shudder. In front of him, first his father and grandfather stepped forward; followed by his mother together with Fuji's.

And then slow, certain steps carried him and Fuji forward to the open grave.

Holding his breath for a moment, Tezuka couldn't ward off the memories. The girl had seemed nice enough. Even if he'd only met her ghost.

Still – or even more so – Tezuka hoped, wherever she was now, things were better. Blinking back the liquid burning in the corners of his eyes he glanced over to his silent companion. Fuji appeared lost in thought, an almost gentle smile on his face.

He'd never met her, had he?

Maybe out of everybody present Tezuka was the only one who could claim to even have known the girl they were burying – as far as he knew, neither Fuji nor Yumiko had ever exchanged a word with her (or her ghost).

Fuji caught his glance and returned it calmly. Simultaneously, both raised their hands and let go off the small flower bouquets – and when Tezuka looked down again, the urn had been buried underneath a heap of flowers and earth already.

The colours down there were dazzling in their brightness, vibrant in comparison to the snow-covered outer world of blacks and whites. Tezuka didn't let his mind linger on the allegory implied, but turned away with a sense of reassurance pacifying his soul.

Fuji remained silent by his side, not quite a smile on his face, but he too seemed to feel that with this funeral the entire affair was ending. Finally, after all those near-death encounters, moments spend between plain disbelief and heart-wrenching desperation, life returned to what it used to be.

Maybe not completely, Tezuka amended, ignoring that he stopped feeling his toes from the cold that easily seeped through his dress shoes. He'd gained new insights concerning his perception of reality. And while his outlook in general may have remained unchanged, he wouldn't deny that his horizon had certainly widened.

But not only concerning ghosts.

And since they were the last to remain as even Yuuta and Yumiko had left for a warmer place, Tezuka reached out and grasped Fuji's hand. Blue eyes blinked at him in surprise, but then a warm smile spread over pale lips.

As they turned to leave this quiet world of black and white, he looked around once more. Letting his gaze sweep one final time over grey gravestones and dark, leafless trees, Tezuka thought next time he'd come here it might just be spring.

"I guess I really owe her a lot." Tezuka sighed. Fuji pressed his hand in return; warmth transmitted even through two layers of cloth.

"I may not have met her." Fuji replied with the hint of a smile, "But I'd like to imagine that things ended according to her wishes – she helped you, didn't she?"

Tezuka nodded. "She did."

Fuji's smile widened beautifully. "I owe her a lot, too, then. But how about, instead of thinking about what we owe her, we simply accept what she did and return to pay our respects once a month or so?"

"We should." Tezuka said, and something soft and cold touched his cheek. Glancing upwards in surprise, he felt another ounce of freezing softness settle on his forehead.

Fuji blinked, blue eyes widening abruptly. "It snows!" he exclaimed in almost childish joy. Seeing that bright spark glittering in Fuji's eyes warmed Tezuka's heart and he could feel the heavy atmosphere lift slowly.

The air was cold and fresh; and it seemed as if heralded a change. Right now the shock was still deep, Fuji had yet to completely recover and Tezuka to stop having nightmares, but seeing Fuji smile this widely he felt certain that things would get better.

That someday in the future he'd be sitting in the sun with Fuji, relaxed and happy – and these days of anxiety nothing but a distant memory.

Tezuka felt a faint smile crawling onto his lips, and with one last glance assured himself that there was nobody else left on the graveyard. Maybe their families were wondering what was holding them up, but then he guessed nobody would question why Fuji and him stayed behind.

Taking a deep breath, he uttered those three words that had been so difficult to pronounce not too long ago.

"I love you, Syusuke."

And now, they tasted almost sweet; even if their beauty was paling in comparison to the expression on Fuji's face. Directing the most heart-warming smile at him Fuji stepped closer and tilted his head back.

"I love you too, Kunimitsu." He whispered in return and Tezuka leaned down.

Lips met and the world that had seemed so empty before turned tranquil. Snowflakes danced in the air, slowly descending; little crystals adorning Tezuka's dark hair, melting on Fuji's cheeks.

Automatically Tezuka's arms wrapped themselves around the smaller figure in front of him, drawing him closer and Fuji's hands reached over his shoulders, one burying itself in Tezuka's hair.

He wasn't feeling the cold anymore, and he didn't want to let go. Fuji neither, so their noses remained connected, even as they had to break that long and tender kiss for oxygen. Blue eyes met brown and there was no denying the mutual affection.

Would they ever have dared to confess without those events transpiring, Fuji wondered. Would either of them ever have had enough courage; would have overcome the denial and risked their friendship for something more?

With a slight smile Fuji stretched, connecting their lips once again. There was no hurry to their kiss; both savouring this precious, shared moment away from prying eyes.

Everyday life provided them with few chances to openly display affection, but the little gestures were all over the place. Fuji was rather certain his sister knew, and Inui might be able to figure them out if he had an idea of what to look for.

The way Tezuka's expression tended to soften when looking at Fuji. Or how Fuji now always set next to Tezuka during lunch break. Or simply the amount of laps Kikumaru found himself running after his glomp-attacks for 'disturbing practice'.

But people had yet to find out. And, Tezuka thought, closing his eyes, whatever they would say, and even if he didn't know just how their relationship would develop; if those feelings in his chest remained as strong as they were now, no disapproving society would ever convince him to abandon Fuji.

He'd had a taste of what true loss felt like. And he never wanted to experience it again.

So he'd keep holding onto the things his heart truly treasured; even if it meant abandoning long-time convictions or breaking with traditions. Fuji meant too much to him to let go.

With a quiet smile Tezuka disentangled himself, but kept their hands connected. He shivered slightly from the cold; but his cheeks were probably just as flushed as Fuji's. No matter how icy the temperatures or how many snowflakes were falling, this kind of cold couldn't touch that warmth that had spread inside his chest anymore.

"Let's go." Tezuka said and received a quiet "Yes" from Fuji in return. And together they started walking away

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**The End**


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